Above and Below
by Madness-Incarnate
Summary: Sequel to That Place in the Middle. Sam is dealing with the fallout from his trip, including a wounded psyche and a new responsibility. Things get worse when the Devil gives him a REALLY hard assignment to get him back in the swing of things. Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Regarding the content that is taken from the respective owners of all fandoms contained herein, I am using it without intent to make money or pass the ideas off as my own. Please don't sue me.

A/N: My intent is not to make enemies of Supernatural fans, but it is the secondary fandom in this crossover and will be used in a supportive capacity to the main story involving characters from Reaper. Supernatural will be featured only in a limited fashion in this fiction, with much more inclusion later in the third sequel. Also, anything regarding Silent Hill will only be in reference to things that transpired in the first fic.

* * *

Chapter 1: Recovery and Obsession

It had been almost two months since Sam Oliver returned from his trip out East a changed man. In that time, he had tried to reintegrate himself with his normal life and found that he just couldn't quite do it. The world around him looked different from what it did before, his eyes seeing new shadows in everything he looked at. Sleep was hard to come by these days, between Charlie and his newly manifested insomnia. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, the events of Silent Hill played through his mind without fail. With a mending body and his return to work, Sam had difficulties in staying on top of it all.

As for his new responsibility to Charlie, Sam had actually excelled. It became almost natural for him, to care for and raise a baby. In the time that they had been together, he and Charlie had thoroughly bonded with each other. The little boy usually only let Sam hold him for any length of time and sometimes, oddly enough, Sock. His friends were incredibly good about the whole situation, offering him all sorts of help with his impromptu fatherhood. They watched after the baby while he took care of his business and helped him with his physical and mental recovery, as well. Andi was, while a little angry with him, pretty patient and understanding about it all. She still let him know that she wasn't exactly happy that he had continued to keep things from her and that he had gone alone to some dangerous unknown location, but she absolutely adored little Charlie.

Presently, he was just returning home from the doctor's office, finally getting the cast off his leg and only being relegated to a drug store cane. At least he no longer had to deal with the crutch anymore, it being banished to the innermost reaches of his closet to collect dust till the end of time. His ribs were still heavily bandaged, something that was unlikely to change for another two weeks at the minimum. Still, it felt good to be able to move a little more freely and to not have to put up with that damned crutch. Ben and Sock were home babysitting for him again, something that he was always a little wary of.

Entering his apartment, he was greeted by a sight that was as unsurprising as it was shocking. The entire place was covered in baby toys and food. Ben and Sock were standing there splattered with the same food all over their faces and clothing, looking like a couple of deer frozen in the headlights. Sam slowly stepped into the room and let the door fall shut behind him. "Hey guys," he said. "What's goin' on?"

"We were just…" started Ben, letting his answer trail off, unable to put anymore words together.

"Uh, well you see, we were uh…" Sock began.

"I don't wanna know," interrupted Sam, limping his way into the living room. "Where's Charlie?"

As one, they rushed over and blocked him from going down the hall. "Wait Sammy," said Sock, a worried expression on his face. "Before you go in there…"

"Sock," he said firmly, "let me through." He moved to go between them, wanting to see his brother immediately. They tried to keep him back, but he forced his way through and went as fast as his cane would take him to his room. Bursting through the door, he saw Charlie lying down in his playpen and smeared thoroughly in food, gurgling away happily. He sighed and turned around to face his roommates, hoping for an explanation. "Okay, now I want to know what happened."

"Well, it started with lunch…" started Ben.

"…and just sorta escalated from there," finished Sock.

Shaking his head, Sam turned back to his room and limped over to the playpen and leaned over to grab Charlie. "Hey there, little man. How's it goin'" The baby made a strange noise of happiness, reaching his chubby little arms up toward Sam's face. "It looks like you need a bath. You wanna take a bath, buddy? Yeah, let's get you cleaned up."

Sam walked into the bathroom and started getting everything ready for Charlie's bath. "Thanks for watching him guys," he said, not wanting them to think that he was mad at them for not keeping Charlie clean. In truth, he understood how utterly hard it was to get Charlie to eat. The little baby was still on formula, but he was just starting to get him to eat more solid food. Sam was still working on how he would take him to a doctor without a lot of unnecessary questions being asked. It was really bugging him that he couldn't have his little boy checked out, worried about what may or may not be wrong with him. He felt like he was going into this blind, without a single clue of what he was supposed to do and how he was supposed to do it.

After bathing Charlie and dressing him in a onesie, he carried him into the kitchen with him and went about making himself a snack. Sam didn't have much of an appetite anymore, but between his friends and Andi he was forced to keep his strength up. He appreciated how protective they were being since his return from that terrible place, but at times it could really be aggravating. There weren't many occasions when he could be truly alone, except for when he had to run an errand and even then one of them would usually try to go with him.

Sam headed back into his room and set Charlie in his playpen, before sitting down in front of his desk. The wall behind the desk had been cleared of any pictures and decorations, all being replaced with a large cork board. A map of the U.S. was posted on the board with various papers and documents surrounding it, all related to his new obsession. Since returning home and reopening his family's medical file, he had been spending as much time as he could searching for the enigmatic John Winchester. So far, he had found several people with that name and had called almost all the ones that seemed to fit the bill the closest. Most of those he called were listed in the phone books, but some of their numbers were a little more difficult to track down. It was in those situations that he was forced to turn to Sock and Ben.

Currently, Sam was not allowed to go on any midnight adventures into the county and state records offices, being injured and having to be with Charlie. His friends went in his place and procured some decent results, Sock even brought home a stack of papers with nothing but cell phone numbers and names on it. He didn't want to know how he had gotten them, but the papers had the names of various cell phone companies in their headers, leading his imagination to some strange and disturbing places.

After close to two months of looking, Sam had boiled it down to one man who he suspected of being his actual godfather. This man was turning out to be very hard to pin down, appearing and disappearing randomly all over the country. Apparently, his house in Kansas burned down in '83, killing his wife, and he vanished off the grid with his two sons. The names of the sons weren't disclosed and he had no reliable means of information to track them down, leaving him at a dead end for the time being.

He continued his search, mindlessly checking the internet for anything he could find that might be of any value. Occasionally, he would stop looking to check on Charlie and make sure he was okay. After a while, Sam was brought out of his single-minded task by a phone call. Checking his cell, he saw that it was Andi calling him, probably just getting off of work. "Hey Andi," he said, leaning back away from the computer monitor.

"Hi Sam. How did the doctor's visit go?"

"Not bad, actually. I got my cast off today and only have to deal with a cane now. But it will be at least another couple weeks for my ribs. Overall, though, it went pretty good." Sam stood up, leaning on his cane like an old man, and made his way over to his bed. Laying down on his back across the bed, he stared up at the ceiling.

"Great. That means you have to take me somewhere tonight," said Andi, sounding giddy.

"I do?" he asked.

"Yeah, Sam, you do. I'm not taking no for an answer here. So, start thinking about where you wanna take me, got it?"

"What about Charlie? I can't just leave him."

"Well, how about Sock or Ben? she asked.

"Can't do. They babysat already today and I don't wanna ask either of them to do it again. Besides, they were telling me that they had plans of their own tonight." Sam slid one of his arms underneath his head to act as a pillow, feeling a slight twinge in his ribs in response.

"Damn. Then don't worry about it. We'll find a solution to this, so just worry about planning the date."

"Andi, I don't know. I'm not sure I feel up-"

"Sam Oliver," she interrupted, "you are not getting out of this, okay? This date is happening and it is happening tonight and I do not want to hear otherwise."

_Andi sure does sound peeved, _he thought, not feeling up to butting heads with her over this. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now tell me how that cute little baby boy of yours is."

"Who, Sock?" he asked, grinning.

Andi laughed and said, "no, you idiot. I was talking about Charlie. What's he doing right now?"

"He's just fine, had his bath not too long ago, thanks to Sock and Ben." Sam lifted his head to see Charlie. "Right now, he's playing with his little spinney thing, the one with the farm animals on it."

"God, he's so cute, even over the phone. Okay, I'll see you later and don't forget about tonight."

"Alright, I won't. Love you."

"Love you, too. Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me ma'am."

"Yes ma'am," he said, smiling once more.

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work out?" asked Andi, as they moved forward in line.

"I hope so. Otherwise, I think we're out of options. Unless you know someone else who can watch him." Sam looked down at Charlie, who was looking around the room happily enough, and smiled a little.

"No," she sighed, "I do not."

"Then think positive thoughts."

The line they were in inched forward again, taking them ever closer to their destination. A sour feeling hung heavy in the air, affecting the mood of everyone in the line. It was almost palpable, a sensation of misery and doom. So far, they had been here for a good twenty minutes, hoping to accomplish their task before the place closed down for the night. If things continued progressing as slowly as they were currently, then they would be cutting it very close.

"So, where are we going? You didn't tell me earlier." Andi looked at him, curiosity written on her features.

"For good reason, I assure you. I'm not giving it away, so you're just gonna have to be patient and wait for me to reveal it all to you when the time is right."

"When the time is right? Come on, I won't tell anyone, I promise." She gave him her very best doe-eyes, throwing in a pout for good measure.

He laughed and said, "first off, I don't think that even makes sense. Second, you were the one who wanted me to take care of the plans and my plan is to keep you surprised." Once more, the line sluggishly edged forward. Sam limped up to his new spot and leaned heavily on his cane, feeling the weight of Charlie in his car-seat straining his free arm.

"Well, it better be good then, if you're gonna keep it secret from me."

"Alright, I'll tell you: we're going to the Brickhouse."

"Sam, if you try to take me to the one place we always hangout on a date, I will re-fracture your leg, I swear to God." She even looked a little pissed.

Laughing again, he said, "don't worry, I'm not taking you to the Brickhouse. Now, can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?" she asked.

"Well, what about school? I know you've been looking into starting in the fall, how's that going?"

She sighed and looked away briefly, "don't get me started on that."

"Why? What's up?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing really, just it's so hard to keep everything straight that I need to do to get in, especially anything dealing with financial aid. There's just a lot to keep track of and it's getting to be very frustrating."

He was about to respond when he noticed that they had finally reached the front of the line. Stepping up to the counter, he set Charlie's car-seat on it and looked squarely at the person on the other side.

Gladys cocked her head at the sight of the baby and said questioningly, "vessel drop-off?"

"Uh no," said Sam, before giving her the most charming smile he could.

* * *

That night, Sam was driving himself and Andi up a windy stretch of backroad. He was finding it a little hard not to have a panic attack. It didn't occur to him when he was planning this evening, but being out on the road at night in the middle of the woods took him right back to that night when he had left for Silent Hill from his motel room. His breath was coming up in short gasps and his skin felt clammy. So far, Andi hadn't noticed and he needed to get himself under control before she did. Trying to steady himself, he focused his attention on the road ahead.

The silence in the car was loud, both people inside unable to find the words to talk to each other. Sam was using up all his concentration on not freaking out and there was no telling what was keeping Andi so quiet. There were times that he wanted nothing more than to know what she was thinking, tonight was no different. She was so patient and understanding and he had no idea why she stayed with him. Considering all the baggage he had brought with him into the relationship, it was surprising that she had been so willing to stick it out with him this long. Of course, that wasn't to mention the most recent complications that had turned up in his life, with the arrival of Charlie and his newly acquired psychological damage (something he very rarely allowed himself to acknowledge).

Eventually, the road took them to a large building on the right-hand side. It looked like a roadside lodge, complete with the log siding and the massive central stone chimney. In front, a sign could be seen stating that it was the Blue Mountain Inn. Pulling into the gravel parking lot, he braced himself for Andi's coming reaction to his choice of places to go out on a date. She didn't say anything until he parked the car. "This place looks beautiful Sam, but I wasn't expecting to be taken into the middle of nowhere."

"Exactly," he said. "Why would I want to take you to some crowded restaurant or a movie where I can't even look at you?"

"Well, when it comes to going to a movie, I doubt we would be doing much watching," she said.

"I'm not gonna argue with that, but you sounded like you wanted something different from the usual ideas. A dinner out at some nice secluded restaurant seemed like a good way to go. Now let's go inside; we have a table waiting for us."

Andi smiled beautifully and said, "okay, let's do that."

They got out of the car and walked up hand in hand to the front door, Sam holding it open for her when they reached it. It was delightfully warm inside, with a soothing glow from the ambient lighting coming from the ceiling and the walls. To their right, they could see a large reception desk made of stained pine, a narrow corridor and a flight of stairs next to each other to the left of it. The hostess took their coats and led them to their table just feet away from the hearth, a roaring fire blazing inside its cavernous depths.

"So," said Sam after they were seated and their drink orders had been taken, "is all this to your liking, my lady?"

Giggling, she said, "Why yes sir, it is; thank you for this. But being serious, you did really well, especially on such short notice, Sam."

"You really wanted this and I really want you to be happy, Andi," he said, before looking through his menu.

"That's sweet; I'm glad we got out to do this. I know how busy you've been with Charlie and when you go back to work at your other job, I doubt we'll find the time to go out very often."

"Yeah," he said, looking down at the table's surface and trying not to let the weight of her statement drag him under. For a good minute, they let a heavy silence sit between them, before Andi broke.

"So, it's good that Gladys was willing to watch Charlie tonight. I was surprised that she agreed," said Andi.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but she did owe me one." Sam looked up to see the waitress come up to their table. She poured them their wine and took their orders, before leaving with the menus.

"That's not what I meant. I didn't think she would be very comfortable with children. I mean, I doubt she's ever had much experience with them."

"Well, she had to have some. She seemed like she knew what she was doing when I left him with her." Sam took a drink of his wine, seeing out of the corner of his eye a chef preparing to carve up a roast in front of a party of two. The chef was dragging the knife up and down the sharpening tool, the scrape of steel against steel unnaturally loud in the dining room. He wanted to just ignore it, but it was so commanding of his attention. That sound was so much like the sound of steel dragging across cement to him that he couldn't stop the shudder that raced up and down his spine. Forcing his eyes to refocus on Andi, he saw her sipping her wine and seemingly drinking in the atmosphere with it, if her wandering eyes were any indication. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time keeping himself from noticing what else was going on. A man started laughing loudly from somewhere behind him, the sound of it pervasive and jarring. Sam tried unsuccessfully to stop himself from jumping in shock, Andi spotting his reaction instantly.

"Sam, are you alright?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I just need to use the restroom. If you'll pardon me?" With that, he got to his feet and grabbed his cane.

"Of course," said Andi, more than a little apprehensively.

Sam limped his way across the room, drawing a few curious looks from some of the patrons and wait staff. He ignored them and made a line for the restrooms, heading into the short hallway that led to them. Once inside the men's room, he went straight for the sink and turned the cold water on. Cupping his hands together, he placed them underneath the faucet and collected a handful of water. He splashed the water on his face and stared in the mirror. His face looked haunted and tired, older than it should be.

"Didn't we already have the talk about vanity, Sammy?" asked an obnoxiously familiar voice from his left.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sam, not wanting to get into it with the Devil tonight.

"What, no 'hi how are you'?" said Satan. "I just don't know how to talk to you anymore."

"Yet you somehow manage to do a lot of it, don't you?" Sam grabbed a paper towel and dried off his hands with it.

"Oh kiddo come on, I'm not that bad. I think you're just stressed and taking it out on me. You need to look into yoga or something, maybe tai chi."

Sam grunted in exasperation and turned to face him, "not that bad? Of course you're that bad; you're the Devil!"

"Oh. Right." He laughed and said, "I forgot."

"Will you just tell me what you're doing here?"

"Oh fine. I'm here to talk to you about your impending return to your duties." The Devil moved to lean against the wall.

"Oh?" asked Sam, prompting him to continue.

"I just want you to know that as soon as you get a clean bill of health, you're back on the job."

"That's it? I mean, you could've told me this when the time came." Sam tossed the balled up towel into the trash, grabbing a second one to dry off his face.

"I suppose I could've just done that, but I wanted to see how you were doing. You've had a lot going on recently with your father's death, all that Silent Hill crap, and that little thing you've taken on as a pet. I'm concerned for your wellbeing is all."

"You're concerned for my wellbeing?" asked Sam, having difficulties in believing him.

"Does that shock you, Sammy? I would think that by now, you'd know how much I care about you." The Devil gave him a surprisingly disarmed look, almost convincing him of his sincerity.

"Don't do that," he said, getting a little angry.

"Do what?"

"Pretend that you care, because we both know you don't. Now, if that's all, I'd like to get back to my date. Have good night." With that, Sam turned away and left the restroom and went back to his table and Andi.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: I forgot to politely and respectfully request feedback in the first chapter. Remember, any sort of criticism is more than welcome, even flames.

* * *

Chapter 2: The Offer

Over the next two weeks, Sam tried to act normal as best as possible and found it got harder and harder as he went. He was only able to get an hour or two of sleep a night, with an almost constant cycle of responsibilities plaguing him every day. His broken rib seemed to be taking its sweet time in healing up, giving him shocking jolts of pain every time he moved his body wrong. It was just so damned hard to maintain his composure, when he was this tired and it all weighed so heavily on him.

Eventually, he was able to stop using the cane and got full use of his leg again. With that gone, it became much easier to do most things and he was able to get a lot more done in a day. Caring for Charlie took up a significant chunk of that time fortunately, seeing as how it was the only thing he really wanted to do. Somehow, in spite of all his issues he was actually good at this job, even better than catching escaped souls. As for the other aspects of his life, Sam could barely handle them with anything remotely resembling competence. Every chore, every responsibility, was a series of insurmountable obstacles. Underneath it all was that overwhelming fear, the kind that froze him solid like ice and stole his breath from him with shocking brutality. With each passing day, he was less and less able to get passed it. Sam could tell in some distant region of his being that he was headed directly toward a total mental breakdown. He often thought of his pending return to his hell-bound duties and got clammy in the hands and his heart would begin to race. There was no way –and of that he was certain –he was going to be able to handle putting himself in a life or death situation again.

Presently, Sam was just pulling into work from his latest doctor's visit where he got the news that it would be another week in the least before he would get the tape removed and get some more freedom of movement. He knew that even with the bandages gone, there might still be some more healing needed before he was back to one hundred percent. Sam doubted that the Devil was going to give him any extra time to do that, though. His boss could really be a harsh task master at times, piling shit on him without regards to his wellbeing or the other responsibilities he had.

He parked his car and walked inside, tying his work apron on as he did so. Sam clocked in and started in on his duties, trying not to think about Charlie and how he was doing. Ben was watching him for awhile until Sock got home from doing whatever the hell he was doing on his day off and then Ben was joining him at work. That wasn't going to happen for another two hours though and he had no one to talk to there. Andi also had the day off and was helping her mother with something.

Not even ten minutes into his shift, he was approached by a hesitant-looking Ted. The man coughed to get his attention, despite the fact that Sam was looking right at him as he was walking up. "Mr. Oliver, I'm glad to see you got here on time today. I was wondering about your injuries and if you can go back to regular duties yet."

Sam grimaced and shook his head, saying, "No, my doctor said that I had probably another week before I can get the bandages off and he wasn't very clear on if that meant that I would be well enough to go back to normal routines or not. I'll let you know after my next visit."

Ted, being more cordial than he had ever been to him before –probably due to his ever-present fear of a lawsuit –responded with, "very well then. I hope you get well soon and remember to keep taking it easy. I'll see you later Sam." With that, Ted turned around and walked away, leaving him alone for the time being.

A few hours later, he was in the midst of re-pricing items and had made it to the lighting center. Ben had shown up a little while ago and was busy handling a register. Sam took a moment to ask about Charlie just after he arrived, getting the usual 'he's doing fine' response for his troubles. Trying not to think about Charlie and how badly he wanted to get back to him, Sam busied himself with his work. He would end up never getting the full details of how the following catastrophe occurred, beyond the fact that it happened due to a chain-reaction of events that led to a disastrous finale.

A loud thunking sound followed by a sharp scream came from somewhere to his right, causing him to stop what he was doing and take a look. Sam didn't have enough time to spot the source of the noise before he heard another awful sound, this one coming from above him. Looking up, he saw that he was standing under an array of ceiling lamps and chandeliers positioned in a grid-like pattern. They were all attached to a lattice-work of steel bars, which was sagging down on one end. Sparks shot out of it and it started to fall. Dropping his pricing gun and raising his arms up to protect his face, he braced himself for the inevitable. He felt the rush of air around him as it fell, somehow not hitting him on the way down. It smashed into the floor loudly, shattered glass spraying his legs from all sides when it hit. Sam took a moment and then lowered his arms and opened his eyes.

The light grid had fallen to the floor and he was standing perfectly in the middle of one of the squares formed by the steel bars. He was shaking and breathless, looking out at the crowd of gawkers who were staring at him with equal intensity. More people came rushing around the corners all around him, Ben and Ted visible amongst them. Sam was running on autopilot after that, mechanically extricating himself from the tangled mess and just getting away from the whole scene. He told Ted he was taking a break and asked Ben for a few minutes to be alone. Rushing himself outside, he went to hide in a distant corner of the property and with shaky hands, pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one up. He sat himself down on the ground with his back leaning up against the side of an old recycling center, one that hadn't actually been used in years.

Tears were threatening to fall and he was finding it difficult to breathe anything other than cigarette smoke. This was so screwed up; why did things keep happening to and around him? Did God actually hate him? It seemed like such a ridiculous concept considering how He had apparently sent Steve to convince Tony to save him, but maybe Sam had misinterpreted God's intentions entirely. He merely could've been staving off his death only to spring something much worse on him later down the road. It was a bad path to go down, he knew, but was unable to bring himself out of that line of thought. There was little else he could think of to explain why so many bad things happened to him. The good and merciful Lord had abandoned him, his soul forfeit and unwanted. Sam sat there for a good while, long after his cigarette was smoked down to the butt.

* * *

That evening, Sam was home alone with Charlie, who had just been put to bed. He was out on the couch, using Ben's laptop to look online. The baby monitor was crackling softly to his right, keeping him comfortable in the knowledge that his little boy was safe. A part of him was amused at how domestic he was being, a deeper part of him was just grateful to have this opportunity.

He was online continuing his search for his mysterious godfather. John Winchester, having been narrowed down to one man, was a needle in an unbelievably massive haystack. There were very few mentions of him anywhere, beyond that initial newspaper article he found. It was going to be next to impossible to track this man down, if he was even still alive. The names of his two sons remained a mystery to him, as well. Sam decided that he needed to take this investigation to a new level. Normally, he didn't need to make extra arrangements when tracking a soul down, because they all had local connections to the Seattle area. This was different; this was a man from all the way across the country, whose only visible connection to Washington State was Sam's parents. He still refused to see his mother, uncertain if he would be able to contain himself in her presence, so that avenue was shut off from him.

The next thing to do was to check to see if he had any sort of criminal background on record. While he always exploited Josie for these purposes, this time he needed to go elsewhere. Sam knew there were websites that you could pay to get access to unsealed criminal records from all over the country. He was hoping that he could find something helpful in those archives, something that would steer him in the right direction. Finding a site, he went through the registration process and signed up for an account.

After getting through all that, he entered in all the relevant information he had and let the results load up. Exhaling deeply, he rubbed his face with his hand and cracked his neck. He found nothing for John Winchester, but he did find two hits in related matches. They were two brothers named Dean and Sam, both were listed as deceased. From what he could tell, deciding to ignore the grievous charges against them, they're ages listed roughly fit the ages of John's kids in the article. Moreover, the name of their father was listed as one John Winchester. A contact was also listed, by the name of Bobby Singer, who apparently resided somewhere in South Dakota. Both the address and the phone number were redacted, leaving him with no way to contact this man. Still, it was a new place to start from, a way for him to maybe make contact with his long lost godfather.

For the time being, he decided to stop searching for the night with the resolve to get back to it tomorrow. He figured that even if there was only one Bobby Singer in the entire state of South Dakota and his number was listed publicly, he doubted that it was a good time of night over there to be calling. Emailing all the information he had acquired tonight to himself, so he could copy it onto his computer later, he deleted all traces of what he was doing on Ben's computer as best he could and logged off. Sam put the laptop away and tried to watch television, finding himself too distracted to pay any real attention.

He was about to go out on the balcony and have another cigarette, a habit he was so ashamed of that he fought to keep it secret from his friends. It was when he was just standing up to do that, that Sam heard the tell-tale cry of Charlie waking up on the baby monitor. Sighing, he made his way to his room and checked in on the baby boy, who had managed to crawl up to the side of the crib and was in the middle of trying to stand up against the rails.

"Hey there, buddy. What's wrong?" he whispered softly, as he was reaching down to pick him up. Charlie merely wailed loudly again in response. "Shh," he hissed, hoping to get him to quiet down. He set the baby up against his shoulder and starting bouncing him up and down, while rubbing circles on his frail little back. The little boy clung to him with shocking strength and slowly began to calm down. "You don't need anything, no formula, no diaper?" He paused to check. "No, you just wanna be with me, don't you?" The baby gurgled contentedly. "I love you, little dude," he whispered so softly not even he heard it, before placing a tender kiss on the baby boy's crown.

When he could feel Charlie's breaths even out on the crook of his neck and his fingers unclenched their grip on his shirt, Sam gently and reverently laid him back down and made sure he was all situated. He left, whispering, "Goodnight. I'll be back in later to join you."

Sam closed the door as quietly as possible and crept back out to the living room. He went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, reaching in for a beer. He snagged one and made his way out to the balcony, grabbing his pack from his pocket as he did. Outside, the air was cool and refreshing on his skin and the view of the city was as beautiful as ever, of course. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and put it between his lips, before opening his beer and searching his pocket for a lighter.

A gold lighter was brought into view and the hand that held it was lighting it. "Need a light?" asked the Prince of Darkness.

Sighing, he craned his neck out to get the tip of his smoke in the flame and inhaled deeply. "What do you want?" he asked, hoping to get this over with.

"Just thought I'd join you for a smoke and a drink," he said, holding up an identical bottle of beer and a cigarette. "Do you mind if I have a seat?" he asked.

"Sure," he said, "why not?" Sam proceeded to take a seat and drink some of his own beer. He took a drag and exhaled, trying to ignore his companion.

They both sat there in silence, looking out over the nighttime cityscape of Seattle rather peacefully. Eventually, the Devil broke the silence. "Sammy, I feel I must apologize to you again, something that just doesn't really ever happen with me. I recognize that I was out of line the other week when I approached you on your date to talk to you; it was inappropriate of me to do that. It's just that I couldn't think of a better excuse to come see you."

"Why did you want to see me?" he asked, deciding to play along.

"Well, I understand that you've had a lot to deal with lately and I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"But instead you unnecessarily harassed me about returning to my duties," said Sam, not up to giving the ancient demon any quarter.

"Yeah, I didn't know what to say."

Sam scoffed at this. "You didn't know what to say?" he asked disbelievingly. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, and what I'm about to say is never to be repeated, that I have a place for you somewhere inside me. You know, where normal people keep their heart."

Sam laughed while shaking his head and took a swig of beer. "Do you ever stop with the B.S.?"

"Sometimes I do, like right now. I mean everything I'm saying, Sammy. I really do care about you." He paused to take his own drink and a drag of his cigarette. "And to that end, I've come with a proposal for you. I understand that it can be very difficult for you to balance your reaping duties with all your other responsibilities. Take your other job for instance: it barely pays the bills and sometimes has to take a backseat to soul-catching. If you didn't need it for the money, would you still work there?"

"I don't know, probably not. Where are you going with this?" he asked, taking another drag off his smoke.

"I was thinking that perhaps you've earned a reasonable stipend for your troubles." The Devil leaned back, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment, Sam was speechless. "Are you saying that you want to start paying me to catch escaped souls?" he said after finally collecting himself together.

"Yes, that about sums it up. I was thinking that I could pay you per soul, say… five grand?"

"Five thousand dollars for every escaped soul I capture!?" he said, almost spilling his beer in shock.

"Yeah, is that not enough?"

"I don't know what to say to that. I'm gonna have to think about it."

"What's there to think about?"

"I don't know. Is the money dirty?" Sam threw out, hoping his indecision would make sense.

"I'm not following you here, Sammy," said the Devil, appearing genuinely confused.

"Is it illegally acquired, or something like that?"

Satan laughed and said, "no, it's perfectly legal money. I'm not saying I got it from selling good wholesome products for reasonable prices, case in point:" he lifted up the remains of his cigarette and his beer in display. "Big Oil too, just so you know."

"Well, that's fine and everything, but I still need some time to think about it. No matter what you say about it, it's still pretty big for me. I fear how this will change the dynamic of everything and I don't know if I wanna change that. Please, just give me a couple days to think." Sam downed some beer and took one last puff of his cigarette, before putting it out.

"Very well, if you need some time, I'll give you some time. But remember: I really do care about you, even if you don't believe me."

"I do not believe you," said Sam, perhaps unnecessarily.

"Have a good night, kiddo," said the Devil, before getting up and heading inside.

Sam sat outside for a few more minutes, thinking about everything. He finished his beer and went back inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Going over to the fridge, he looked inside for something to eat and found some leftover thai food that he had last night. Eating quickly, he went off to his room and crept back inside. Charlie was still sleeping away peacefully and he felt a little envious. Sam stripped down to his boxers and tried to get to sleep, his thoughts torn between his close call with death that day and the surprising offer from the Devil.

* * *

Sam awoke the next morning to the sound of Charlie waking up. The baby boy was making that odd chuffing sound that he associated with him in the morning. Getting up, he stumbled tiredly over to the crib and looked down. "Good morning Charlie. You ready to get up or you still need some time like me?" The baby started to cry and Sam said, "apparently not. Okay let's get up."

He picked the baby up and immediately discovered the source of his displeasure. "Oh," he said, "you need a change, don't you?" Sam changed his diaper and took the opportunity to throw some pants on for himself. Holding Charlie, he left his bedroom and made his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sam," said Ben from his station at the breakfast bar.

"Morning," he replied. "Is there coffee?"

"Full pot; I just brewed it." Ben ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Thanks. You're awesome." Sam got a cup from the cabinet and poured himself some coffee, with Charlie balanced on his hip, all the while. Taking a careful sip of the hot liquid, he set Charlie in his high chair and made sure he was secured, before heading back into the kitchen to get everything together for breakfast. Getting Charlie's food first, he started to feed him. Fortunately, Charlie seemed to be in the eating mood and didn't give him much trouble through breakfast. Sam and Ben talked about a variety of topics, carefully avoiding any mention of Sam's incident the day before.

Eventually, Charlie refused to eat anymore and Sam put the jar of mashed vegetables back in the fridge. He made himself a bowl of cereal and a couple slices of toast, with a glass of orange juice to go with it. As he was sitting down, the sound of the front door being unlocked reverberated throughout the room. Sock crept in, not noticing them in his preoccupation to be quiet. When he turned around after making sure the door was completely shut, he absolutely jumped at the sight of two men and one baby staring at him. "Hi guys," he said. "Up late?"

"No Sock, we're up early. It's 6:45 in the morning; you've been out all night," said Ben.

"Oh," he said drunkenly, "that would explain the Sun then."

"I would hope it did," Sam chipped in.

"Well," prompted Ben, "please tell us how your night went."

"Oh Benji," said Sock, practically collapsing on the couch. "You totally shoulda been there at the Brickhouse. We were doin' jello shots for hours, then went over to the Mexican bar down the street when they kicked us out."

"Who's 'we'," asked Ben, stirring his spoon in the milk in his bowl.

"Oh, just these college chicks I met at the bar. They were lookin' for a real man and not some college dude."

"So when they failed at that, they found you?" asked Ben.

"Oh ha ha," said Sock, flailing his arms drunkenly to accentuate his words. "Hey Sammy," he called out suddenly, "how ya doin'?"

"Oh fine," he replied. "The Devil visited me last night."

This got their attention immediately. "What did he have to say?" Ben asked, dropping the spoon.

"Is it a new soul?" threw in Sock.

"No, nothing like that. He offered to start paying me to capture souls." Sam finished his toast and washed it down with some coffee.

"Woah, what!?" exclaimed Ben and Sock at the same time.

"Yeah," he said, looking down into his bowl of cocoa puffs. "He wants to pay me five grand a soul."

"Jesus, Sammy, that's incredible!" shouted Sock.

"He's right. We were averaging four souls a month for awhile there. I mean, you could make some serious money."

"Hey," interrupted Sock, "did he say anything about payin' me and Ben?"

"No, but I got the impression that the offer was only for me. You know, though, I'm not even sure if I'll take him up on it or not," said Sam.

Sock turned to Ben and said, "I'm too drunk to get up. Will you go punch him for me, Benji?"

Ben moved to stand up and replied, "I'm on it."

"Hey, come on guys," he said defensively. "I have reasons for it."

"Like what?" challenged Sock.

"Like I don't trust him as far as I can throw him and this has to be some sort of trick," replied Sam.

"I guess that makes sense, but you, no, **we** deserve money from him and now we have that chance," said Sock.

"I'll give it some thought, but I'm not sure if I want his dirty money. It feels like he's tempting me again." Sam shoveled down some of his cereal.

"I don't know, Sam. I think it's alright for you to accept hard-earned pay for a job well-done. There's nothing wrong with that," stated Ben.

"Benji's right," added Sock.

Pointedly swallowing his food, Sam responded. "Listen guys, I said I'll give it thought and I will. For now, can we drop this?"

"Fine," said Sock, "but this isn't over, Sammy. We will be talking about this again." He struggled for a moment to get up and finally managed to force himself to his feet.

"Great," said Sam, rolling his eyes, "I'm looking forward to it."

Sock stumbled off to his bedroom. "I'm gonna crash. Hold all my calls," he called out.

Ben got up as well and said, "I should probably get to work, soon. What're you up to today?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of taking Charlie out with me and, well that's about all I've got so far."

"Sounds like fun, Sam. I'll see you later. Bye little dude," he said, turning to Charlie, who looked back at him curiously. Ben grabbed his jacket and left, leaving a deep silence in his wake. Sam looked down at Charlie and said, "guess it's just us, buddy."

After breakfast, Sam had gotten himself and Charlie dressed and took the time to look up the name Bobby Singer online. There was only one listing shown. Calling the number listed, he eventually got an answering machine message. "Hello, Mr. Singer," he said after the beep, "my name is Sam Oliver and I'm calling about a John Winchester. I found some documents with his name on it in my birth records and I had just never heard of him before." After giving him his cell number, he finished with, "please give me a call back when you get this message. I just need to know about anything I can relating to my birth. Thank you and goodbye." Sam hung up and got Charlie and all the things he needed together for a day out.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter brings us back to the Reaper we know and love.

* * *

Chapter 3: The Intricately Carved Box

The next day, Sam was at work taking inventory in the stock room out back. The job consisted mostly of walking around with a clipboard and counting merchandise, writing down the exact amount of each item. Fortunately, he only needed to do half the backroom and not the whole thing. It would've taken forever to count all that stuff and he was glad that the other half of the task was being done by someone else.

He went around the corner, heading to the next row down to continue on. Following the edge of the shelf, he smacked into a large stack of paper towel boxes. They started toppling over, falling down around him. Sam closed his eyes and raised his arms to shield himself, cringing at the prospect of being the victim of bad circumstances once more. The boxes didn't seem to be hitting him, but could be heard falling to the floor all over. At some point in this, the air began to feel different and he could tell something had changed.

Sam opened his eyes and found himself in a field in the middle of nowhere, spectacular country scenery surrounding him completely as far as the eye could see. He lowered his arms and slowly spun around in a circle, taking in the beautiful but unfamiliar view.

"Boring, isn't it?" said the Devil from his left.

Sam turned to him and said, "I imagine you're here to get my response to your offer the other night."

"Got it in one, Sammy. What's your decision?"

"Before we continue with that, I would like to be specific about my conditions."

"Conditions?" asked the Devil, sounding bemused.

"I want healthcare, that's including vision and dental; that goes for both me and Charlie. Another thing is I want him to be legally mine. I want to have all the paperwork I need for him, so he's a member of society. Now, I know you don't like talking about him or having anything to do with him, but I need this."

"Sammy, I'm not really seeing where you stand to be making such demands like you have some bargaining chip in this. Explain to me why you think I should grant this for you."

"Listen, you want to change the nature of our working relationship; that much is obvious. What you want to change it to, I don't know. What I do know is that you really want me to accept. Now, tell me I'm wrong on that." Sam took a breath, fixing Satan with a steady gaze.

"Oh fine. I'll have all the paper work taken care of and you'll get the things you need in about 7 to 10 business days. You will need to sign a few things."

"Only if I get a couple days to review everything I'm supposed to sign."

"You're getting very paranoid, Sam. Not bad." The Devil and the countryside faded away, being replaced with the familiar environment of the Work Bench stock room.

* * *

It actually took less time than seven days for the paper work to arrive and Sam got Charlie and his papers together and left for Tony's as soon as he could to get him to look it over with him. He would've gone to Josie if he could, but she was out of the loop and Tony was fairly knowledgeable about these things himself. It was too bad that his place was such a long ways away. The drive over was a nightmare with Charlie crying practically the entire way and traffic getting out of the city was horrendous. Once he was out in the woods, things started to calm down a little and the baby slowly began to calm down.

Reaching Tony's cabin, Sam parked the car and got his papers and Charlie, slinging his day bag over a shoulder. The front door opened and the hermetic demon stepped out onto the porch. "Sam?" he said, sounding confused.

"Hi Tony, sorry I showed up unannounced like this, but I really need your help with something." He marched up to the porch, Charlie looking up at Tony with rapt curiosity.

"And who is this," asked Tony, looking down at Charlie with equal amounts of curiosity.

"This is Charlie and it's sort of a long story. Can we come inside?"

"Of course, Sam. Come on in."

* * *

"So that brings you up to speed," concluded Sam, bouncing a happy Charlie on his leg.

"Wow, I don't know what to say." Tony took a drink of his coffee.

"Yeah, it's been a little hard for me to process myself. I just need you to look over the papers and make sure there're no unpleasant surprises in them before I sign."

"Well, I could look them over, but I'm no legal expert, Sam. I wouldn't want to tell you it's okay to sign them and be mistaken."

"I understand, but you're the only person I could think of and I need the money and the extra time I would get from doing this." Sam readjusted Charlie on his lap and took a sip of the coffee Tony had gotten him earlier.

"Alright, feel free to hang out while I look these over for you. Honestly, I don't really have anything else to do." Tony got up, grabbing the papers and took them over to his dining table.

"Thank you, Tony," said Sam. He spent his time playing with Charlie and teaching him the difference between ducks, chickens, pigs, and cows. The little baby was lively and happy throughout. Sometimes, Tony would take notice of this and a smile would grace his features. Sam was completely unaware of the attention he was receiving; his focus was thoroughly on Charlie and his wants and needs.

A couple hours later, Tony suddenly stood up with the papers in his hands and said, "alright, I've looked over the paperwork, Sam."

Sam looked up from Charlie and asked, "what's the verdict?"

"Well," he replied, walking back over to his chair. "It would seem that everything's in order."

"That's great!" exclaimed Sam, scooping up Charlie before getting to his feet. He walked over to the chair he'd been occupying earlier and sat back down in it.

"Yes, it is. But Sam, I still think you should give this some thought. There may be nothing in these papers that could harm you, but he is most definitely planning something and these are a part of that plan." He sighed, looking at Sam's crestfallen expression at hearing his cautionary words, and continued. "Listen, I don't want you to just not take it; I just want you to make sure you know what you're getting into."

"I know," said Sam quietly. "It's just that I don't know what else to do. There is no way I can continue working at the Bench, capture escaped Souls, **and **take of Charlie at the same time. If I go through with this, I would be able to quit the Bench and only have two things to worry about instead of three and that would free up much of my time. Bounty hunting alone can take up quite a bit of time, but only for brief intervals. There's a lot of time in between each that I could really use. On top of all that, it would mean that I can properly take care of Charlie, especially be able to take him to the doctor."

"Well, if you really think that you need to do this, then I won't get in your way," Tony handed the papers over to Sam, who took them with his free hand.

"Thank you again for doing this," said Sam.

"You're welcome. But Sam, there is something that I want to ask you about what you told me earlier."

"What's that?"

"You said that you had to go all the way across country to find the answers you were looking for, but you didn't say where. Where did you go and what happened to you there?"

Sam's face darkened sharply and he said, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I got that, but it may have significance. It's obvious that something bad happened over there and you don't want to share it, but anything that the Devil has anything to do with has importance, even the places these things are done at. It was a town, wasn't it?"

"What do you know about it?" he asked defensively.

"Was it Silent Hill?" Tony's voice was barely above a whisper. The look on Sam's face was all the answer he needed and he said, "Oh Sam, no. I'm so sorry; I have no idea what to say."

"Then please don't say anything," responded Sam, a little icily. Charlie detected the drop in the mood of the room and started squirming around uncomfortably. Sam broke his gaze with Tony to calm the little boy down. A heavy silence settled down over the room, almost suffocating in how thick it was. They sat there for a minute, not once acknowledging each other. Eventually, Sam broke down and whispered, "what do you know about that place?"

"I know it's a very bad place and that many terrible things reside in it. The place that Silent Hill sits on has an incredibly long history of darkness. Lately, the demon Samael has tried to use it to rebirth himself on this realm. What could the Devil possibly hope to gain by having you be born there?"

"I don't have a clue," admitted Sam. "But he did tell me that he didn't need it, that he just liked the idea of having it happen there."

"I see," responded Tony. "Well, I'm certain that there is an element of truth to that, I doubt that it's his entire reason, though. He always has a reason for doing everything, a reason that furthers his agenda."

"Yeah, I've been learning that over time." Sam stood up and set Charlie against his shoulder. He knelt down and slipped the strap of his day bag over his other shoulder. "Thank you again for all you've done, Tony."

"Of course, Sam, come back any time." Tony got up himself and saw him to the door. Have a safe drive and good luck on everything, Sam. And don't forget that you will be facing danger from all directions, but you have the means to protect yourself and those you love."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Within you, a great power lays dormant. It is waiting for you to master it and use it to face your enemies. Learn how to wield this power, Sam, and prepare for everything that is to come."

"But it scares me. I fear what it will do to me if I let myself use it." Sam's thoughts briefly flashed to an image of himself kneeling in the midst of a powerful globe of flames, of the crushing guilt at the slaying of his brother.

"I know, but you must overcome that fear and embrace it. No matter what, it is your destiny."

"I don't know about that, Tony," said Sam, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. "But I'll think about what you said. I would like to be able to protect my friends better." He turned away and walked back to his car.

* * *

After returning from his trip to Tony's, he dropped Charlie off with Andi. She gave him a kiss and wished him good luck, before he moved on to his doctor's appointment. The doctor gave him a clean bill of health and wrote him a note stating that he could return to regular duties. He went immediately over to work and placed the note in Ted's in-box on his desk, as he had left for home for the day.

Sam was grabbing a few things at the supermarket, when his cell phone started ringing. Setting the box of formula in his cart, he pulled out his phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"Sam Oliver?" A gruff voice asked.

"Yes, this is him," he replied.

"Hi. My name's Bobby Singer; you left me a message over a week ago."

"Oh, Mr. Singer, thank you for getting back to me. I'm sorry about bothering you with this, but I was hoping you could help me with something."

"Yes, you claim that John is listed as your godfather. Are you sure it's the same John Winchester, though?"

"Well, I suppose that I could be wrong about it, but I really believe that he's the one I'm looking for. I apologize if this is too forward of me, but I was hoping that I could get some sort of contact number for him." Sam crossed his fingers, while waiting for his response.

"I'm sorry to tell you, son, but John passed away awhile back."

Sam felt his spirits freefall to rock bottom at hearing this news. This was it, the end of his search. His godfather and his two sons were all dead and the secrets he was looking for had died with them. "I, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. Listen, what do you know of his relation to your parents?"

"I don't know anything, to be honest with you. All I know is that at one time they picked him to be my godfather."

"You didn't ask them about this?" asked the other man.

Scratching the back of his head, he replied with, "Uh no. I didn't want to talk to my mom about it. It's complicated."

"I see," said that scratchy old voice. "Well, I'm not sure how to help you young man, but good luck on your search for answers."

"Thank you sir," said Sam, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

"You're welcome son. Have a good day."

"You too, goodbye." With that they hung up.

Sighing, he turned back to his cart and resumed shopping. He stocked up on toilet paper and diapers, before heading to the checkout lane. After making his purchases, he got in his car and went back to Andi's. Pulling into her driveway, Sam got out and walked up to the front door. He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. The door opened and Andi was standing there, little Charlie clutched in her arms.

"Hey beautiful," he said.

"Who you talking to?" she asked, a restrained smile trying to appear on her face.

"Does it matter? Either way, it's true," he said, going for pure charm.

His attempt must've succeeded, because her smile broke out into full force. It was bright and lifted his spirit to see. "Thank you for watching him."

"Of course, Sam. How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Great. He said I was all better, see?" Sam lifted his shirt to show that the bandages were all gone.

"That's wonderful. Does that mean you have to go back to work?"

"Well, I have been working," he replied, confused.

"No, I mean your other work." Andi held out Charlie to Sam, who was motioning to take him.

"Oh," he said, settling Charlie against his shoulder. "I guess so. I'm not sure when he's gonna give me a vessel. It could be any time now."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that."

"Would you be?" he asked, a step away from defensive.

"I suppose not," she admitted. "Let's talk about something else."

"Sure. How was Charlie? Did he give you any trouble?"

"Well, he didn't want to take a nap earlier when I set him down, but other than that he's been a little angel." She smiled at Charlie, who was trying to bury his tiny face in Sam's shirt.

"Thank you again for watching him." Sam started rubbing circles on the baby's back, while bouncing him up and down gently.

"Of course, I love watching him. He's so cute and fun. Like I said before, Sam, any time you need someone to watch him and I'm available, I will babysit him."

"I know, but it still means a lot to me that you would do that."

"You're sweet, Sam. Come on in." She turned around and walked inside.

Sam followed her in and shut the door behind him. He waited patiently for her to collect together Charlie's things and throw them in his day bag. She came back and handed the bag to him, giving him a kiss on the lips and Charlie a kiss on the forehead. "Bye Sam. I love you."

"Love you too. Sorry I couldn't stay longer."

"That's alright. I understand that you've been busy." Andi snapped her fingers and said," Oh, I've been meaning to ask you: did you get Tony to look at those papers?"

"I did this morning. He said that there was nothing in them that I should really be concerned about."

"Well, that's great," she said.

"Yeah, it is. But I'm still not entirely certain that I want to go through with this. I mean, he's offering me a lot without actually asking for anything in return and, for some reason, that scares the holy hell out of me." Sam sighed in quiet frustration.

"I know this is going to sound like a cliché, but I believe that you'll make the right decision."

He laughed and said, "you're right, that is a cliché. But thank you for it anyway."

Smiling, she said, "of course. You're welcome, baby. Now, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," he responded. "Talk to you later.

Sam, after getting Charlie in his car-seat, drove off and headed for home. He pulled into his parking garage and juggled his paperwork, his groceries, Charlie, and Charlie's bag. Struggling to keep everything in his arms, he trudged his way up to his apartment and opened the door. Nobody seemed to be home, something that didn't entirely surprise him. Sock and Ben both had to work today and had plans to go to the Brickhouse afterward.

Setting the groceries on the counter, he took Charlie into their bedroom and set him in his playpen. "No nap for you, little dude. You had your chance earlier and you blew it, didn't you? Huh? Did you blow your chance, buddy?"

Charlie gurgled in response and craned his neck to look around at his surroundings, no longer giving Sam any attention. Sighing, Sam let the day bag drop to the floor and walked over to his desk. He looked over the small stack of papers in his hands and felt himself caving in. Grabbing a pen, he began to sign all the forms and had soon completed the entire stack. Once he was done, Sam set the papers down on his desktop and grabbed the baby monitor, leaving the room. He snuck out to the back patio and puffed down a cigarette, feeling some measure of shame at doing so.

* * *

Later, Sam was in the middle of making himself dinner, which consisted of throwing a TV dinner in the microwave and cracking open a beer. In the background, the TV itself was showing a Simpsons rerun. His mind was rubbing itself raw working over the many complications that had cropped up in the past couple weeks, adding to the ever growing pile of useless angst that he had accrued over the past year. Everything just hurt to think about and he was growing ever tired of keeping up the charade of normalcy. With the impending threat of his return to reaping, Sam was far too quickly losing the battle against a total mental breakdown.

When the microwave dinged, he pulled out his food and set the hot plastic tray on a plate so he could hold it and took his beer with him to the living room. Charlie could be heard over the monitor playing with his little toys. Grateful that the baby was still being kept occupied, Sam tried to focus on the show and forget for awhile all his problems. It just wasn't any good though, as he couldn't seem to stray very far from his reality.

After over a half hour of brooding (with the occasional trip to his room to tend to Charlie), his food cold and only half-eaten, Sam was broken from his internal reverie by the sound of the front door opening. Sock and Ben piled in, each carrying grocery bags. Setting the bags on the counter, Sock spoke first. "Sammy, what's goin' on?"

"Hi guys. Nothing, I was just eating and watching television. How was the bar?"

"We didn't end up going," said Ben, reaching into one of the bags. He pulled out a bottle of liquor and reached in again. Sock was doing the same thing and soon they had a messy row of booze running the entire length of the counter.

"We decided to just stock our own bar," added Sock.

"I can see that."

"How did things go at Tony's?" asked Ben.

"Not bad, actually. He gave everything the 'all clear'," answered Sam, standing up.

"Awesome," said Sock. "Did you sign the papers then?"

Sighing, he said, "I did."

"I don't believe you," countered Sock.

"I did," he repeated, this time a bit more defensively.

"Prove it," added Ben.

"Why?"

"Because we expect to get paid by you for our assistance in your duties, that's why," stated Sock.

"Fine," he said, "I'll show you."

Sam led them into his bedroom and straight toward his desk. The only problem was that the documents were no longer in the place he had left them. They had been replaced by something else entirely, something that caused him to feel like he had been punched right in the gut. Right where the papers were supposed to be was sitting a vessel box.

"Shit," he said at the sight of it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N:

* * *

Chapter 4: Those Places That God Abandoned

The three of them were standing in the kitchen together, the vessel box resting on the counter in front of them. Sam, standing in the middle, was debating whether or not to open it. On the one hand, he understood that he had no choice in the matter; this was the one thing that the Devil absolutely demanded from him. Now, he was getting paid for this and that somehow magnified the responsibility he felt towards getting it done. Of course, on the other hand, he was purely and completely terrified of going out again and hunting down the damned. His palms felt clammy and his hands were shaking, each breath was quick and shallow and his heart was racing.

"Come on already, open it," demanded Sock.

"Yeah Sam, are you okay?" asked Ben.

"Uh, yeah. It's just that it's been so long since I had to capture a soul, it just feels a little strange."

The box was a little on the large side and was fairly hefty. Sam swallowed his fear and lifted the lid of the box. That strange mist that always made him think of dry ice flowed out, disappearing into the air. When it cleared, a gasp was forced from his lungs at the sight of the object contained within. It appeared to be a crossbow, a large one at that. He reached in and lifted it out of the box, seeing it in more detail. The crossbow was made of wood and steel, somewhat modern-looking with some subtle signs of prior use along its surface. It had a chain of bolts coming from it and disappearing neatly into a drum hanging below. Overall, it looked somewhat mechanical in nature, obviously being some sort of automatic crossbow.

"That is so damn cool," whispered Sock, reverently.

"I feel like I should kneel," added Ben.

Sam remained silent on the matter, opting to study the incredible vessel instead. He held it in a somewhat proper firing stance, getting a real feel for its weight. It would do nicely for soul-catching, but he couldn't help but wonder why he required so much ammunition. What could it mean? The possibilities truly frightened him.

"I totally understand what you mean, Benji," said Sock, his eyes glued to the weapon "Best vessel ever, hands down."

"What do you think, Sam?" asked Ben.

"I think I'm glad you just restocked the bar." Sam set the crossbow back into the box and noticed two spare drums of bolts still sitting at the bottom. Closing the lid, he grabbed it and walked into his room and set it in the closet. He placed it right next to his backpack, the one he had used in Silent Hill. His two friends followed him around as he did this, neither opting to say anything. When he had done that, Sam turned around to face them and said, "until I get the information on the soul, the vessel stays in here. Sock, I'm talkin' to you specifically. Do not play with it or touch it in any way, got that?"

"Well, Sammy, let's be reasonable here."

"No Sock, I'm not negotiating with you on this one. You touch it and you don't get paid."

"Aw Sammy, you're no fun."

"I'm plenty fun, just not with crossbows."

Charlie chose that moment to cry out for attention. Sam rushed over and said, "Hey buddy, what's wrong?" The baby only cried in response, his face scrunched up in agitation. "You just being cranky?" He reached into the playpen and picked him up, setting the baby boy up against his shoulder. "Hey guys, give us a minute?" asked Sam, looking at Sock and Ben.

"Yeah sure, we'll be in the living room," said Ben on both his and Sock's behalf. They left and Sam was alone with Charlie.

"I think you need to go to bed. Let's get you in your jammies, huh?" Sam went about changing Charlie into his pajamas and did his best to calm him down. Once he was done, Sam set him into his crib and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Pleasant dreams, little dude," he whispered.

He left the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Heading back into the living room, Sam moved straight over to their makeshift bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey, downing it immediately. After pouring himself another shot, he turned to Sock and Ben. He said, "it has two spare drums of bolts in the box and I have no clue how many bolts in each drum there are. I don't like the feel of this one so far."

"There's spare ammo in the box!? That is so cool!" exclaimed Sock.

"You're worried about this," observed Ben.

"Well, yeah, I am," replied Sam. "I mean, how bad is it gonna be, if we need this much ammunition?"

"You think it's more than one soul, Sammy?" asked Sock, proving that he could actually focus on serious matters.

"Maybe," he said, grimacing. "We're gonna have to wait until the Devil contacts me to get this information." With that, Sam took the second shot he had poured for himself, saying, "For now, we wait."

* * *

It wasn't until sometime after lunch that the Devil eventually whisked Sam away from work to talk about the soul. He had been returning from the parking lot after helping a customer with their purchases. Entering through the automatic sliding doors, Sam found himself appearing in a dark open room on the other side. Some light was seeping in through two series of stained-glass windows from both sides of the room. He was in some sort of church, it would seem. On the far end, directly across from him was an altar and a small podium. Standing behind the podium, was the faint figure of the Devil.

Suddenly, he could hear the distant sound of organ music playing in the background. The song playing was intense and dark-sounding. Raising his arms, the Devil cried out, "Do you wish to be baptized in the eyes of your Lord, my child?"

"I'd rather die," responded Sam, walking up to the front. He passed by rows of empty pews, noticing distantly how old and disused they looked. In fact, everything he could see in this darkened assembly hall was covered in dust and rotting away. This church hadn't seen use in many years.

Laughing, Satan said, "Have a seat, Sam. We have a lot to discuss and it's going to take a little while."

Not feeling all that disobedient at the moment, Sam took a seat in the front row near the center aisle.

Did you get the vessel yet," asked the Devil.

"The crossbow? Yes."

"Man, is that thing badass, or what?" asked the Devil, unable to suppress a huge grin.

"I had some concerns about the vessel and what it implies."

"I see where you're going with this one, Sammy, and the answer is: yes. There is more than one soul for you to catch, this time. There are, in fact, sixteen souls to catch."

"Sixteen!?" Sam exclaimed, horrified at the thought of it.

"Yes, Sam. Ever since your little vacation to the East Coast, I've been thinking. It has become pretty clear to me that you can handle tougher cases. With that in mind, I've decided to give you an assignment more suited to your skill level. Besides, you're gonna make a killing here. As I recall, I just agreed to pay you five thousand a soul. Come on, man, that's eighty grand in one blow." He stepped down from the podium, taking a thick file folder with him.

The Devil walked over to where Sam was and sat down next to him. "Over thirty-three years ago, a man named Edgar Ross commanded to a group of people who followed him to hang themselves. He had formed a cult a couple years before that, mostly recruiting college students from the University of Washington. By the end, when he gave that fateful command, he had precisely fifteen followers.

"The beliefs he taught to his sect stated that God was a planetary body floating in orbit around a neutron star, some thirty-or-so light years away. According to the belief structure he created, he was a conduit for God to form a portal to Earth. The idea was that when they all killed themselves in the exact same way at exactly the same time with him, they could all join him in a trip through this portal that would take them to God, like some sort of rapture.

"Anyway, they all hanged themselves from the rafters of this very church on August 13th, 1975 at precisely midnight. They weren't found for another three weeks, due to the remote location of this church. They all, of course, went straight to Hell."

And all sixteen of them broke out together and are back," concluded Sam.

"Exactly, but that's not all. You see, Sam, he didn't stop his recruitment campaign, not even after being sent to Hell. He first tried to convert his fellow damned souls, but the damned are usually so preoccupied with their own suffering that they don't make for a very good recruitment base. After his failure there, he turned to the demons torturing him and his people. The audacious son of a bitch actually tried to recruit demons, can you believe that? Of course, that didn't work either.

"That was when he turned to something else. Not many people know this, but there exists in Hell a creature that is neither demon nor man. It is a race of imp-like creatures that most down there have taken to calling brimstone rats."

"Brimstone rats?" asked Sam, sounding confused.

"Yes. Now, these things are a terrible nuisance and are pretty much like any other vermin you might encounter. They're small, fast, and vicious, not to mention that they like to travel enmasse. While dangerous, they're not very strong and can be killed with regular weapons."

"So, did he recruit these 'rats'?" Sam asked, sounding very disturbed at the prospect.

"A couple thousand of them," admitted the Devil.

"Jesus," whispered Sam, before yelling, "and you want me to go after them!?"

"Yes I do," replied Satan, sounding as calm as ever.

"We can't do that alone, it's too dangerous!" screamed Sam.

"Come on, Sammy, you'll do fine. You were a serious hardcore badass in Silent Hill. You've handled much worse than this."

"I was terrified every step of the way. I thought I was gonna go mad and you make it sound like I was having the time of my life. I haven't had a good night's sleep since returning from that hell hole and I jump at the slightest noise and you foist this on me!? Fuck you!" Sam stood up and said, this time sounding more resigned, "just give me the file and send me back so I can get started."

"So you admit that that place messed you up?" asked Satan, peering oddly at him.

"What?" Sam turned around, fury blazing in his eyes. "What did you say?"

"I asked you to confirm my suspicions, more specifically about your nightmares and your insomnia, not to mention that uncontrollable flinching and shaking after every time something startles you."

"What business is it of yours?" asked Sam, incredulous.

"I need to know that you can do your job, Sam, that you're mentally up to the task," said the Devil without a trace of emotion in his voice.

"Then why did you give me this assignment, if you were so **concerned** for my well-being? asked Sam, spitting out the word concerned with as much venom in it as he could. "I mean, it doesn't make any sense. You were just going on about how you thought I would do great at this and then you question my ability to do it."

"Don't get me wrong, Sammy, I do believe in your ability to carry out your duties. But, I also believe that you're on the verge of a mental breakdown. I'm just saying that you should consider some sort of outlet for your problems, talk about it with someone."

Sam scoffed and said, "like you? No offense, but you're the last person I would want to talk to about anything and on top of that I don't really like the idea of being psychoanalyzed by you at all."

"Very well then," responded Satan, "if you don't wish to discuss it with me, we'll continue with the business as usual then. Edgar has been extremely busy since he got out and has made preparations to make his new church. For some reason that I haven't been able to figure out, he seems to need human sacrifices for his new cult. They have already started pulling people off the streets for this purpose. He's been using an old dilapidated mission in Queen Anne as a base of operations, but he's rather sentimental for a dead cultist and will probably move on to a more appropriate location. Everything detailing all that is already enclosed; here's the file."

Flipping through it, Sam asked, "just Edgar's file? What about his followers?"

"His is the only one you will need, if you end up needing even that. The thing you need to understand is that when they chose to follow him, they gave up their very independence. That only got worse after a few decades in Hell. Now, they're nothing but mindless drones that only serve one purpose: to do as he tells them. You won't find anything in their files that would be of any assistance in their capture. You have the file on Edgar and the vessel, now get it done."

Immediately after the Devil finished speaking, Sam was returned to the Work Bench. He found himself in the employee break room, sitting at one of the tables. The last faint strains of that awful music, which had been playing softly in the background the entire time, could still be heard for a moment before fading away into silence. Getting up, he left the room and sought out Sock and Ben, who were slacking off in the stock room. "I just got back from talking with the Devil," he said. "It's much worse than we thought."

* * *

Sam filled the two of them in on the details of their new assignment. After a lengthy conversation that bounced back and forth between the extreme danger involved and the massive amount of money they were about to make, they eventually decided to gather together some weaponry and supplies.

Sock had insisted on making his own weapons for the upcoming mission, breaking off from them to see to this task. Ben, who was looking a little green at the prospect of what they were about to do, claimed he was going to dig up some more conventional weapons and left to do that. Sam was left alone to plan things out and track down the location of the old mission in Queen Anne. Fortunately, the Devil was kind enough to give him all the information he needed in that thick manila file folder he had provided.

Andi had agreed to take Charlie while they went out to hunt down the soul. He planned to keep her ignorant of some of the facts regarding this assignment, namely that there were sixteen souls to capture and the issue of the rats, as well. Sam was getting a very cold feeling in his gut at all this. The Devil, being his usual evil self, had given him this awful task as his first mission since taking a break from work. Many questions and doubts plagued his mind. What if he froze up in the middle of the fight? What if he ran out of ammo for his crossbow? Could he ever sleep again after enduring the terrible experience? And there was no doubt in his mind that it was going to be a horrific ordeal. Images of Silent Hill and some of the things that had happened to him there, flashed through his mind uncontrollably. He had kept up a brave front for Sock and Ben, but the truth was that he was scared as all hell. All he wanted to do was curl himself up into a ball and just cry and shut the whole world out.

Pushing all that useless pity-party bullshit aside, Sam focused his attention on reading through the file. He busied himself with jotting down a brief summary of the information that he thought might be useful. When he was finished with that, he folded up the summary and slipped it into his pocket. Sam decided, when he had secured the file in his locker, to get back to his normal day job duties; this was mostly to burn off excess nervous energy. Truthfully, he had all but checked out of this job since his talk with the Devil about getting paid. It hurt to accept the offer, but he really needed the money and the extra time that this opportunity afforded him.

It was another couple hours before his shift was over and Sam clocked out, intent on meeting up with Sock and Ben at the apartment. He hoped that they had come up with some decent ideas for weapons since they split up. Ben, while not very good at this sort of thing, would do his very best at getting good supplies. His main concern was Sock, who was incredibly insistent on creating the weaponry. Sam had no clue as to what he was up to, but he did see him pushing a shopping cart around the Bench and tossing all sorts of items into it. That was quite awhile ago and he had long since left, so there was no telling what Sock was doing now. Sam decided to let go of his apprehension over that and just trust that Sock hadn't blown anything up or anything like that.

Before heading home, he stopped by a pizza place and ordered a pizza and some breadsticks for dinner for the three of them. It wouldn't do to go out to that old mission on an empty stomach, even though he didn't really feel all that hungry himself. In truth, he didn't have much of an appetite these days, not since Silent Hill. But that didn't mean he didn't understand the need to stay strong, especially given his job. A thought that occurred to him then was that it might be a good idea to keep a limited stockpile of weapons and supplies on hand, in case he needed them again in the future. He would have to table that idea until after this whole soul-catching business though; there was no sense in getting ahead of himself when he was this busy.

When he was back in his car with his food, Sam pulled out his cell phone and called up Tony. He saw no reason against asking Tony for some more information on these so-called brimstone rats.

"Hello?" said Tony's voice on the other end.

"Hey Tony, its Sam."

"Oh, hey Sam, how's it going?"

"Well, I'm officially back on the clock now and I need a little wisdom," said Sam.

"Oh? What's up?"

"You see, the soul I'm going after has some of these odd creatures with him apparently. The Devil called them brimstone rats."

"Really? Sam, those things are a nuisance. They account for something like thirty percent of your boss's backlog of work. They're small and relatively weak, but they're vicious and travel in packs. It's odd for them to leave Hell; they don't really like the conditions outside of it. But, it isn't unheard of; there have been isolated incidents of them escaping the inferno and infesting places on Earth. There's no real concrete information on how they came to be, but the most popular theory is that they are created from cruelty."

Sam was confused by his description of their origins and asked, "how do you mean they're created from cruelty?"

"Well," said Tony, "every time somebody commits an act of cruelty against another, does something mean to somebody else, one of them is created somewhere in the bowels of Hell. Sam, do you know how many rats this soul has?"

"Yeah, the Devil said that the soul had somewhere around a couple of thousand of them in his ranks."

"Jesus, Sam, that's horrible. In those numbers, they can be extremely dangerous; I can't stress that enough. Be careful, okay?"

"Alright, we will, but Tony, what would you recommend against them?"

"Well, they can be killed very easily, but the issue is killing many at once. If you have access to some sort of explosives, I would highly recommend those. Other than that, anything you think can hurt them will, even fire. But like I said, be careful, because they travel in packs and they can quickly overwhelm you. Be sure to have close-range weapons on hand, as well, in case they do overwhelm you."

"Thank you, Tony. You've been a big help," said Sam.

"Of course. Stay safe, Sam," replied Tony.

"I will. Have a good night, Tony."

"You too, bye Sam." With that, Tony hung up and Sam did as well. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Sam focused his attention on driving and headed home.

* * *

Entering his apartment, Sam immediately smelled a noxious combination of gas and other harsh chemicals. Sock could be seen in the kitchen off to his left, standing over the counter, a variety of glasses and chemical jugs set out messily before him. Sock looked over in his direction, his face partially obscured by a painting mask and a set of protective eyewear.

"What's going on?" asked Sam, trying not to cough and sneeze from the chemicals in the air.

Sock pulled the mask down to hang around his neck and said, "I'm making napalm and bombs."

"Do you even know how to do that?" asked Sam, disbelievingly.

"Sure, got the recipes right here," he said, hefting up a book.

Sam peered at the book's cover and said questioningly, "the Anarchist's Cookbook?"

"Yeah, got it at that leftist bookstore on Pike. I figured it would come in handy and it did. This thing is a treasure trove of useful knowledge, Sammy. It showed me how to make pipe bombs with a bunch of match heads and some pvc piping. I'm tellin' ya, it's absolutely brilliant."

"Good, I just got off the phone with Tony. I was asking him about these rats and he said that the best method for killing them is explosives, because it can kill many at once. What have you gotten done, so far?" asked Sam, setting the pizza and breadsticks on the dining table.

"I got four pipe bombs all put together and the makings for another three or so on top of that. I've got some napalm made up in a bucket already; I just need to figure out how I'm going to deliver it."

"Deliver?" asked Sam, sounding very confused.

"Oh sorry, that's commando talk for how I'm gonna use it on the enemy, you know, like spray them with it or throw it at them in a water balloon or something like that."

"Ah, I see. What are you working on right now?"

"Making fire bombs with household cleaners, but I'm not having much success with that," admitted Sock.

"Well, let's just stick with the pipe bombs and napalm then," said Sam.

"Alright," agreed Sock. "I'll try again later."

Sock started cleaning up the counter, putting things away that he no longer needed. When he was done with that, he grabbed a large bucket of, what Sam presumed to be, napalm. "Now, what to do with this?" he asked aloud.

"Why don't you fill up a bunch of empty beer bottles?" offered Sam, flipping through the book. "That way, we can throw them like Molotov cocktails."

"I guess that would work, but we'll have to be real careful when lighting them. I don't trust this stuff all that much, to be honest with you. It isn't like plain gas or alcohol, it's much more dangerous. This stuff clings to you and burns forever."

"That's very cautious of you, Sock. I'm a little shocked."

"Funny, Sammy, very funny. Alright, I'll get to it."

"Good. I got food by the way, but we've gotta open some windows before we expose the food to the air in here. I'll go do that real quick." Sam went about ventilating the apartment, before heading to the kitchen. "I'll finish up the pipe bombs." He flipped the book to the page Sock had dog-eared with the instructions to make said explosive device.

Ben came home just a few minutes later, loaded down with a couple boxes and a number of large paper bags. Kicking the door shut behind him, he made his way over to the dining table. "Hi guys," he said on the way.

"Whadja get?" asked Sam, looking up from his work.

"Guns, knives and ammo," replied Ben, setting everything on the table. "What've you guys got going on over there?"

"Pipe bombs and napalm," said Sock. "I just like saying that, pipe bombs and napalm; they rhyme."

The three of them worked in silence after that, each preparing for the task ahead. They took a break to eat and finished up. Ben had acquired some 9mm. handguns and a short-barreled shotgun. The shotgun barrel was so short, it had to be mere centimeters away from being illegal. Ben had also purchased plenty of rounds for both types of guns, obviously learning his lesson from the incident with Greg.

After finishing up making the last of the pipe bombs, Sam took over work on loading and sorting the guns, drawing some curious looks from his friends at how comfortable he seemed with handling them. The knives were large and wicked-looking, each as sharp as a razor. They came with sheaths made of leather designed to be fixed to a belt strap.

Ultimately, they each got a handgun and a knife, with Ben keeping the shotgun for himself. Sock pulled out three utility belts and strapped one around his waist. The utility belts had a series of slots that could hold tools in them. He started slipping molotovs into them.

"Good idea," said Sam, breaking that long uncomfortable silence. He stared at the belt and got up, grabbing one for himself. It was a little tricky to get on and keep the belt knife accessible, but he managed to get it positioned acceptably and slipped a few molotovs into his own slots. Sam left one open for a couple pipe bombs, which were slimmer and more could be packed in a slot.

When they had all equipped themselves sufficiently, Sam went into his room and grabbed the vessel box from his closet, pulling out the auto-crossbow inside. He slipped the spare drums into the large pocket on his utility belt. "Okay guys," he said, "let's go do this. I need to get directions to the old mission. The Devil provided us an address, so we can look it up. I haven't had the chance to do that yet."

"Okay, Benji and I'll bag everything up and get it down to the car, while you do that." The three of them removed their belts and concealed their belt knives under their shirts. Sock and Ben left, as Sam was sitting down at his computer. He quickly got online and used Mapquest, printing off the directions to the address of the mission. Grabbing the map the second it was spit out of the printer, Sam rushed out the apartment, locking the front door behind him.

* * *

The directions on the map took them to a large fenced off lot, with the roof of an old building poking out above on the other side. It was blocked off by a very tall chain-link fence, secured by a series of large sheets of ply-board. From what they could see, it looked difficult to get over. "We're gonna have to find a place to cross over; let's circle the block," said Sam.

They proceeded to drive around, looking for a weak spot in the impenetrable barrier of the fence. Along the East side of the lot, Sam spotted what appeared to be a flap of chain-linking that had been pulled loose. There was no place for them to park on this street, so Sam directed Ben to park down on the next street. Unfortunately, there ended up being no available parking on the next street, as well. In the end, they had to park a few blocks away. As it was, the three of them got lucky, in so far that they were in a fairly uninhabited neighborhood. No one saw them equipping themselves with all sorts of illegal weaponry. Still, it was decided that they would sneak back over to the property and try their best to keep a low profile.

When they reached the part of the fence with the loose flap, Sam reached down and lifted it up. The flap opened up a bit, giving them just enough room for Sock to squeeze through. Sam let Sock and Ben go through first, before he crouched down and crawled through after them.

He found himself in an old parking lot; the pavement looked positively ancient. It was cracked and crumbling, a massive jungle of weeds growing out in these spots. The mission was standing there, sagging on its foundations and waiting for them to enter it. All the windows and doors to the place seemed to be boarded up, barring them from further access. It was three stories tall and had an imposing cathedral-like presence. There was no noticeable activity going on in there that the three of them could tell. Sam led them in a circuit around the perimeter of the building, looking for a way in.

Their search led them to a window by the South wing near the front doors. The ply-board had been removed from this window and the glass had been broken out. Sam grabbed his pocket-clip flashlight and shone it through the empty space of the window, revealing the remnants of some sort of office. There was an old wooden desk rotting away near the center, the chair that went with it missing. Nothing else of significance remained, having been stripped out by the prior owners of this place or by looters. Shaking away that unnecessary mental digression, Sam slipped the flashlight back into his pocket and handed the duffel bag containing the crossbow over to Ben. He braced his palms against the window sill and hefted his body inside, trying to make as little noise as possible while he did this.

The air inside was musty, redolent with mildew and dust. He resisted the urge to sneeze and turned around to take his bag back and to help his friends in. Once all three were inside, Sam set the duffel bag down on the desk and unzipped it. He pulled out the auto-crossbow and held it up in a firing stance, peering down its sight to make sure it wasn't misaligned. Once satisfied, Sam turned to his friends and silently gestured to them to stay behind him. By some sort of miracle, Sock didn't make so much as a single noise. What he could hear was a deep rumbling sound; it sounded like chanting. This was it, the moment he put himself back in mortal danger. His hands felt clammy and his body shook in mounting fear. All his self-doubt bore down on him then, threatening to unhinge him completely. The desolation in this place was uncomfortably reminiscent of that horrible place, the place his nightmares always took him to. Ruthlessly forcing it all down to the pits of his soul, Sam cleared his mind of those weaknesses, something that made the innocent little child still buried deep within him cry out in loss and remorse.

Covering his light with a hand, Sam poked his head around the corner. A number of votive candles were lit up, bathing the far end of what appeared to be an assembly hall in a dull glow. It was basically a church, so it stood to reason that there would be a place for the congregation. Standing on the dais there in front of the podium, the silhouette of a tall figure could be seen. Before this figure stood precisely fifteen hooded figures, all of them in a neat and tidy line, just in front of the dais, what may have been altar was placed between the solitary figure and the rest. Sam switched his light off and gestured for Sock and Ben to crouch down and follow his lead.

The three of them crept around the shadowy corners of the room, keeping near the walls to avoid detection. They made it all the way up near the front and could see the central figure on the podium. The other figures were chanting mechanically, while the one up front and center was swaying slightly, his arms held up in a rapturous state. It had to be Edgar Ross, the cult leader himself. He was a tall and severe-looking old man, his features sharp and angular. Edgar wore the same black robe as his follower, but with the hood worn down.

Sam figured he was close enough by this point to fire and aimed the crossbow at Ross. He got him dead in his sights and his finger began to squeeze the trigger, when a dark shadow moved into his view. Looking up from the sight, Sam saw that one of the hooded figures had stepped in his way and was staring down at him. The hood completely concealed its face and Sam saw nothing in the abysmal hole where its face should've been. He suppressed a shudder in the face of it, flashing back to that staircase in the middle of nothingness. Sam pulled the trigger and a bolt flew out, piercing it in the chest. The soul burst into a ball of red light and sucked into the crossbow, almost knocking him on his ass.

This, of course, got the attention of the rest of the souls, all of them looking right at the trio. Edgar pointed directly at Sam and yelled, "two of you, kill them! The rest of you will come with me!" He turned around and walked away, disappearing around the corner into the staging area behind the stand. Twelve of the souls followed behind him, leaving them alone with two more of the souls. The closest one raised an arm and an eerie green light emanated from its hand. Sam pushed his friends aside and dove to the floor in time for the light to shoot out and smash into the wall behind where he was kneeling, blasting that section into rubble. Chunks of burning wood and plaster rained down upon them and Sam forced himself to his feet, urging his friends to get up, as well.

Both souls were charging up for another attack, their hands glowing with that sick-looking green light. They ran and ducked away, Sam getting split up from them when he was forced to dive the other way. The green lights shot out, smashing into more of the wall, destroying what they hit. Sam had ducked behind a row of pews to avoid the attacks and poked his head out afterward, aiming his crossbow at the nearest of the souls. He fired again, hitting it in the gut. It burst into reddish light like its predecessor and was sucked into the vessel. This time, Sam was more prepared for the kickback and recovered quickly enough to roll to the side, as its remaining companion retaliated with yet another blast of green light. It smashed into the pews he had been behind and blasted through the next couple rows beyond. More burning chunks of wood fell down, some of them stinging him in the face.

Sock and Ben started jumping up and down on the dais, waving their arms frantically and yelling out to get its attention. Somehow, it managed to work and Sam saw that he had a clear shot at it, when it turned around to focus on them. He aimed the crossbow and fired at it, managing to score a hit in its shoulder. When it was sucked up into the vessel, he got up and jumped over the pew and made his way over to his friends.

"Nicely done, Sammy," breathed out Sock, trying to get his breath back under control.

"Thank you," said Sam.

"What do we do now?" asked Ben, keeping them on task.

"We go after Edgar," replied Sam heading over to the corner the rest of the souls had disappeared behind. That was when they heard and felt it, a gradually building rumble of activity coming from above them. It got louder and louder, as whatever was causing it got ever closer. "The rats," whispered Sam, cursing under his breath. He started running around the corner and chased after Edgar and his cadre, as they were being chased themselves by the rats of Hell.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: This was a very difficult chapter for me, being the first time others joined Sam in an action sequence in my fiction. That wouldn't usually be a problem, but this is supposed to be written entirely from Sam's perspective. Unfortunately, to describe what's going on properly, I was forced to show the perspectives of others, as well. I hope very much that it's not confusing, but let me know if it is and I'll put little dividers in to help. Thank you all for taking the time to read my crap this far into it.

* * *

Chapter 5: The Rats of Hell

As Sam was running after Edgar, Sock took a second to light up a molotov and throw it down the hallway leading into the East wing. It smashed on the floor, sending flames all over the floor and walls. Ben, taking his cue, lit one of his own molotovs and chucked it into the opposing hallway that led to the West wing. "Come on, Benji, let's go," said Sock, running in the direction Sam took.

The staging area in the back was empty, save for a staircase leading down at the very back. Sam raced down it two steps at a time, the sound of the approaching horde of hellspawn growing ever closer. Sock and Ben came barreling down after him, looking very apprehensive. Sam flicked his pocket light back on and looked around the basement room he had ended up in. It was filled with stacks of crates, boxes, and a variety of ancient-looking pieces of furniture. All of it was piled up haphazardly, some of it dangerously close to toppling over.

On the other side of the room, two corridors led out in the same direction on each end. Sam ran for the corridor on the right, Sock and Ben not far behind him. They could hear the awful screams of those damned creatures chasing after them. It wouldn't be long before they caught up with them.

The corridor was short and broke off to the left abruptly. On the left-hand wall, before it ended with the new hallway, there was an old steel door. Sam opened it and aimed his weapon inside. The room turned out to be an old boiler room with another door on the far end, presumably leading into the other corridor. Sam let the door swing shut and turned the corner that the hallway wrapped around. On the right-hand side, he saw two large wood doors spaced a fair distance apart from each other.

He heard the rats reach the staircase and backed up to look. They came rumbling down the stairs, looking like a solid shapeless mass. As they started down, a number of them jumped or were pushed over the railing, landing on the concrete basement floor. _They look like gremlins, _he thought, his mind on those old eighties movies. Not one of them was anywhere over two feet tall and they were bone-thin. Their flesh was dark and mottled, reminding him of asphalt for some reason. Sock threw a third molotov at them, splashing several of the vicious little things in flaming goo. Their screeches were high-pitched and hurt his ears badly to hear.

Deciding that he didn't want them to catch up, Sam ran for the nearest door and kicked it open. It was a large empty room, except for a few old blankets and sleeping bags laid out in the corner of the room. This place had obviously housed a bum at one point in time, probably before the police kicked them out. One thing that stood out was the hole in the wall on the far side of the room. Unless the souls had decided to huddle together in the other room, this had to be how they had escaped. "Hey guys," he called out, "in here."

Sock threw a pipe bomb before running after Ben. He dove around the corner just as the pipe bomb blew up. The blast shook the floor a little and deafened all three of them momentarily. They joined Sam in the room that led to the strange hole in the wall. He was crouching down in front of it, peering in.

"Hurry up, Sam," said Ben, turning around to point his shotgun at the door. Fear was pulsing through them at the pace of their blood. Sock pulled out his hand gun and aimed it at the door, his hands shaking so severely it was a miracle that he was even able to keep a grip on it at all. The little creatures reached the door and started pounding on it.

Sam slipped through the hole and found himself at the edge of a four foot drop off, which led to an odd concrete corridor running to the left and the right of him. A series of pipes and cables were running along the ceiling, water dripping from them steadily to the floor in places. He jumped down into the hallway and looked from direction to direction, hoping to see some sign of what direction they souls had gone in. Seeing nothing overt, he chose to head left.

The rats burst through the door, sending it off its hinges and to the floor. They piled through the open doorway and tumbled through it into the room. Sock and Ben started firing into the crowd of them, taking out as many as possible before they were forced to escape. The little beasts recovered quickly and ran at them. Ben broke off and ran straight for the hole, diving through it without a clue as to what was on the other side. Sock was following closely, but had a little trouble fitting through it quickly and easily.

He was set upon by those things, several of them grabbing onto him cruelly. Sock screamed in fear and pain, crying, "HELP ME!!"

Sam and Ben turned around and ran back to assist him. Sock was writhing around frantically, trying to get free of the hole and the rats. Sam reared his arms back and swung the crossbow like a bat, knocking a couple of the little bastards off his back. Ben grabbed Sock and pulled him into the tunnel, dragging him to the floor. The rats poured out of the hole like sand, spilling out everywhere around them.

Thinking quickly, Sam grabbed the shotgun Ben had dropped to help Sock and held it one-handed into the hole and fired. The blast reverberated strongly through his arm, coming close to forcing it from his grip. The concussive blast tore into a number of the little monsters, spraying him and several of their counterparts in a thick and viscous black blood. One of them leapt up and grabbed onto his shirt, clawing desperately at him and drawing blood. He dropped the gun and grabbed it by the neck with his free hand and squeezed it viciously. The thing started clawing at his hand, trying to get free, but it was no good. Sam gritted his teeth and tightened his grip until he felt that satisfying crack of its neck. It went completely limp and he let it fall to the floor. Several of the creatures saw him do this and backed away a few steps. His friends also witnessed this, both losing a little heart at the darkness they saw in his eyes in that moment. They tabled their concerns and refocused on the task at hand.

"Sammy, back away," called out Sock, who was holding a lit molotov in his hand. Sam obediently did as he was told and backed up several steps, as Sock launched it at the top of the hole. It smashed against the concrete and coated all the rats trying to clamber through. They burned and screamed loudly in pain, writhing about horribly and falling to the floor. Sam, Sock, and Ben ran down the tunnel, the mass of the rats pushing through and chasing after them once more.

The tunnel twisted and turned, getting them lost deep in this dark place. There was absolutely no sign of Edgar or any of the other souls and the horde was close on their heels. Sam decided that they needed to find a way back to the surface and get away from these little monsters. He started looking around for a way out, finding only divergent tunnels leading to other regions of this strange underground maze.

Eventually, the tunnel led them to a large open space with a number of tunnel branches heading off into darkness. To his left, a flight of metal stairs led up, hugging the walls until it reached its end, some twenty feet up on the far end of the room. A steel ladder was fixed to the wall there, leading up into a hole in the ceiling above. Sam and his friends raced up the stairs, the rats spilling out into the room behind them.

The crazed hellspawn clambered up the stairs and climbed up the support structure also, trying to cut them off. Sam pushed on faster, feeling that familiar burn in his legs in doing this. It reminded him uncomfortably of Silent Hill and everything he had endured there. The rats were quickly climbing up the sides of the stairs, closing the gap rapidly. Sock was struggling with a couple of them that were clinging to his back and Ben was trying to help him keep his pace. Turning the corner, Sam made it to the ladder in time for the demonic rats to reach the railing on the side of the stairs and climb over it to land on the steel grating.

He rushed over to the railing, ignoring for a second the ones that had gotten on the platform already, and used the vessel to knock them off the side. The damned things fell off, squealing their way to the bottom. Sam looked back at his friends and saw Ben helping Sock to the ladder and turned back to make sure they had enough breathing room to get up. In truth, it was akin to holding back water with a patio screen. There was just no way to hold back the mass of them for very long, but all he needed was to keep them back long enough for his friends to get up and then he could cut and run himself.

Soon enough, both Sock and Ben were out of sight, having disappeared up through the hole above. He had backed himself up to the ladder and looped his arm through the bow and the string of the crossbow to free his hand. He started climbing up, kicking at the mass of rats chasing after him. There were so many of the monstrous little things that they had completely occupied all space on the floor of the large room. About midway up, he grabbed one of his own molotovs and lit it up. He dropped it on the platform below, where it broke on impact with the metal grating. Almost immediately, Sam could feel the heat of the flames licking their way up in his direction. It had the pleasant effect of forcing most of the rats that had been climbing the ladder to let go and fall. He forced himself to climb up faster, looking up to find himself reaching an opening just above his head. Reaching a hand up over the edge, Sam could feel the intense and building heat of the fire below. It was drawing sweat from him and it was rapidly getting unbearable. Hands gripped his forearm and started to help pull him up out of the ladder well, just as a couple of the little beasts grabbed hold of his pant legs. The screams of the wretched things below were piercing his ears in their intensity and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

His friends helped get him up and off the ladder, getting him on solid ground. Immediately, Sam turned his attention to the two rats that had caught a ride up with him. They launched themselves at his face, their fury etched clearly on their tiny wretched faces. Sock managed to kick one off him, sending it flying back into the chamber below. The other one reached his face, getting swipe at him with its claws, drawing blood. He grabbed it by its midsection and pulled out his knife, pushing the blade viciously into its gut. That sickening blood oozed out, coating him thickly like oil. Sam tossed the monster aside, his knife still stuck in it with the edge of the blade poking out the other side. With that done, he got up and turned back to the hole, throwing his remaining molotovs down there. Sock and Ben joined him in unloading their stock of explosives. They then started throwing their pipe bombs down the hole, as well. When they had done that, the three of them ran away from the hole and ducked around a corner in time to be knocked off their feet when the bombs -igniting from the still-burning flames- started exploding, one after the other. After the last of the explosions, they took stock of their surroundings. They were in a dimly lit tunnel made of concrete, with more pipes and cables running along the ceiling and the walls. Along one of the wall, faded black paint was stenciled in, reading: MUNICIPAL ACCESS.

Looking around, they finally came upon a steel door that had the words, TO SURFACE, painted on it. Sam opened it, revealing a flight of stairs leading up to the street. A bum was leaning up against the wall of the stairwell, draped in a number of ratty old blankets. He looked up at them curiously and Sock said, "good evening to you, sir. It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," replied the homeless man, looking deeply confused.

The three of them climbed up the stairs and found themselves on some sort of side street. They wandered about for awhile, trying to get their bearings. Eventually, it was the sound of sirens that clued them in on the direction they needed to head in. Apparently, the mission was starting to burn down and some forward thinking resident had called in the fire department. Their car was right where they had left it and the three of them piled in and drove off.

* * *

The drive back to their apartment was spent in silence, each of them keeping their thoughts to themselves. Sam was absently staring out the window, not paying any attention to the passing scenery. His mind was racing with the events that had just transpired. His nerves were ablaze with the adrenaline and the shock of being back in the trenches. They had captured three of the sixteen souls and had killed untold numbers of those malicious little beasts. Still, their job was far from finished and his adrenaline had yet to quiet down. That was probably a good thing, seeing as they still needed to tend to their wounds, shower, and he needed to get over to Andi's as soon as possible to pick up Charlie. One thing he knew was that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, that was for certain. Being there in that situation had brought it all back, the fear and the despair. It infested him and filled his mind with the darkness that came with it.

Soon enough, they reached their apartment building and parked in the garage. The three of them trudged their way up to their place and entered wearily. All three of them removed their utility belts and Sam set the vessel on the kitchen counter. Ben immediately began helping Sock clean and dress his wounds, before moving on to Sam. When they were done, Sam quietly excused himself and went to take a shower to clean off the blood and ichor from his body.

He took care of this mechanically and dressed himself in the same manner. After that, he grabbed his car keys and said his goodnights to Sock and Ben, who were sitting quietly on the couch with beers in their hands. Sam got to his car and drove off to Andi's place, placing a cigarette between his lips. Lighting it with a shaky hand, he rolled down the window and exhaled that wonderful smoke. He rolled down all the windows to make sure it aired out for Charlie's sake and turned on the radio in an attempt to drown out his own morbid thoughts. It didn't really yield great results, but it was better than nothing.

Sam had long since finished his smoke before he reached Andi's and popped a mint in his mouth to get rid of the smell of tobacco on his breath. Pulling into her driveway, he looked curiously at the car already parked there. It wasn't hers or her mother's car and he wondered who was visiting, wondering at why it looked familiar. Getting out, he walked up to the front door and knocked on it. A moment later, the door opened up and Andi was standing there, looking as beautiful as ever. In her arm, Charlie was nestled comfortably and sucking on his pacifier. "Hi," he said, offering up a smile that he didn't quite feel inside.

"Hey baby," she answered, smiling gently. "How did it go?" Sam's silence drew an immediate look of concern on her face and she asked timidly, "Are you alright?"

"Uh yeah, it was just a tough night. How's my boy?" he asked, changing the subject.

She got a very uncomfortable look on her face then, looking over her shoulder into the kitchen.

"Andi, who's there?" asked an irritatingly familiar voice. The woman it belonged to stepped into view and looked at the scene with rapt curiosity.

"Hi Josie," said Sam, trying not to sound resentful at seeing her there.

"Hi Sam," she replied with that bittersweet element in her voice, the kind that hinted that she was onto him and wasn't going to believe a word he said. Josie was extremely good at pulling it off, as well. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, just came by to see my girlfriend," he replied, uncertain of what else to say.

"Really," she said, obviously not believing him, "and it has nothing to do with the mysterious little baby that Andi has been watching, the one she was unable to provide a valid explanation for watching."

Sam hemmed and hawed, finally settling on, "he's my cousin. I've been given custody of him temporarily."

"You've been given custody of a baby boy," she stated, sounding like she believed him even less than before.

"Yeah, it's a long story and I don't really wanna get into it right now," he said, tired of this already.

"Fine," she said, "I'll drop it for now. Andi, when you two are done, I'll be in the kitchen." With that, Josie sauntered off and left them alone.

"I'm sorry about that," said Andi."

"That's alright," said Sam, "It's not your fault. Besides, she was gonna find out anyway." He reached for Charlie, who was simultaneously reaching out for him.

Andi handed the baby over to Sam, who set him against his shoulder and kissed him on the brow. "Hey buddy," he said softly in that gentle voice he reserved for the baby boy.

"Here, let me get his things," she said, walking into the den. Sam stepped inside and waited in the foyer. Andi came back with his day bag stuffed to the gills with toys and baby supplies and he hung it on his free shoulder. Giving him a kiss, she smoothed Charlie's hair back and planted a kiss on his crown, saying, "Have a goodnight. I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, before saying more loudly, "goodnight Josie, I'll see you later."

"Goodnight Sam," she responded from somewhere in the kitchen.

Sam left after that, putting Charlie in his car-seat and strapping him in. He got in drove back home, feeling low and vulnerable at everything he had been forced to put up with that night. Getting home, he immediately put Charlie to bed and kissed him goodnight. Sam didn't even try to get some sleep himself, opting to sit in the rocking chair he had procured for nursing Charlie and sat in it all night, the crossbow resting across his lap.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer:See Chapter 1

A/N: This is a crucial chapter for me as a Winchester actually makes an appearance here. My fear is that this Winchester is woefully out of character and any Supernatural fan is going to want my head for it. If I'm correct in that assumption, please review and let me know this. I really decided to write fanfiction to take me out of my comfort zone, having stuck to original fiction before it. In the short time I've been doing this, I've discovered how truly difficult it is to capture the voice of somebody else's creation and would love feedback on how I could improve that. Thank you all again for sticking with this so far.

* * *

Chapter 6: A Stranger Came Knocking

The next day, an exhausted Sam occupied himself with taking care of Charlie, ensuring his friends were doing alright, and undertaking an important task at the Work Bench. He got to the Bench by early afternoon, with Sock and Ben watching after Charlie while he did this. It was busy as usual when he went in, with people everywhere bustling about on their errands.

Sam headed straight for Ted's office, knocking sharply on the door. A muffled, "come in," could be heard in response. He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Mr. Oliver," said Ted, "what a pleasant surprise and on your day off, too. I feel honored."

"Ted, can I have a minute?" he asked.

"Sure, have a seat," replied Ted, gesturing to the chairs on the other side of his desk. Sam took a seat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable sitting in the plastic chair. It reminded him of all the times he had been in trouble and had been forced to sit in this very chair and get lectured at by Ted. The man in question was steepling his fingers under his chin, like he did every time he sat at his desk talking to employees. " What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to give you my two weeks notice," he said, exhaling sharply.

Ted let his hands drop to his lap and his jaw dropped with it. "W,what? Why?"

"I just got a better offer, Ted. I told you I wasn't planning to be here forever. It's just time for me to move on."

"Well, I can't stop you, Sam. Very well, I'll start phasing out your hours then. Are you going to need any consideration for your new schedule?"

"Not really, no, but thank you for asking," said Sam.

"I'm sorry to hear you're leaving, Sam. No matter what, I always liked you."

"Thanks," replied Sam, giving him a genuine smile.

They shook hands and said their goodbyes and Sam left. He was driving home, when he felt the air in the car change. "Sammy," said the Devil from the backseat.

Sam jumped in his seat and swore softly under his breath. "Of course I had to have another visit from you."

"I just wanted to offer my congratulations on your work last night."

"We didn't do that well, though," replied Sam.

"Sure you did, Sammy. You got three of the souls pretty much at once and you took a big chunk out of Edgar's army of rats. I would say that constitutes as a good job. Plus, you caused a hell of a lot of property damage last night and that just brings a smile to my face."

"Of course it does," said Sam. "You know, there are still thirteen of them left."

"Well, yeah. I knew it wasn't going to be easy and it might take awhile to get them all, but if you get Edgar first, then the rest of them won't do anything and they'll be easy to dispose of."

"What about these brimstone rats of yours? What happens with them?"

"You're going to have to get rid of them."

"Fine, I'll get it done," responded Sam, hoping that would get rid of Satan for the time being.

"I know you will, Sammy, but let's talk of other things. So, you told Ted you were quitting, that's good. See, thanks to me, you get to say goodbye to that crappy job forever. Now you know that I'm not all that bad."

Sam merely scoffed in response to that.

"Speaking of which, I've already taken the liberty of crediting your account for the souls you captured. Normally, I'm going to wait until after the soul is back in Hell before I pay you the money, but I figured that this might take too long for that and I'll just pay you as you go on this one, just this one, though."

"Thank you," said Sam, reluctantly.

"You're welcome, Sammy," replied the Devil. With that, the Devil was gone as quickly as he appeared. Shaking his head, Sam focused on the road and continued his way home.

* * *

Over the next few days, Sam started slipping further into his own personal darkness. There was the fear, of course, that sick undercurrent of madness that threatened to consume him. On top of that, there was the guilt. He thought constantly of the danger he had thrust upon his friends and his girlfriend, the growing disconnection with his mother, the less-than-stellar life he would be giving to Charlie, and (here was the ultimate guilt-maker) killing Brandon.

He had to be stronger, better than he was now. The truth was that he was weak and he was endangering those he loved and it weighed on him more and more, as if every day another weight was added to the stack he was holding up. Before, he managed to get a couple hours of sleep a night, but now he got none. His eyes were ringed by deep black circles and heavy bags underneath. There was a time when he always made sure to mousse his hair and get it the way he liked it, but now he couldn't be bothered with that anymore. His appetite took the worst of it, as he hadn't had a bite to eat since that pizza he had ordered that night before he led his friends to that horrible place. He might as well have taken them to Silent Hill itself, considering how badly they took it. Ben was constantly jumpy and nervous and as for Sock, he had been having a hard time keeping his sense of humor together. Sam knew that they would recover from this, but he just wouldn't. It was yet another piece of baggage that he had to carry and he wanted so desperately to be able to set them all down.

It would've been foolish to think that Andi had noticed none of this, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job at keeping most of it internal. He hadn't told her the nature of his latest mission, except that he was going after a former cultist. She had been shockingly patient with him through all this, leading him to wonder why she bothered to stay with him at all. Every time he saw her, Sam had to resist the urge to apologize to her for everything.

Currently, he was sitting at home watching Charlie play on the living room floor. The little boy had started crawling recently and now he just couldn't be stopped. It was cute, that was for certain, but it was the beginning of a massive headache for him. Charlie just wanted to go everywhere and explore everything. Sam didn't have the energy to keep up with him anymore, being so sleep deprived.

He thought, as he had been thinking quite often these past few days, of Edgar Ross and his cadre of blind followers. The soul had kept quiet since their encounter the other night at the old mission. According to the file, which Sam was currently reviewing while keeping a watchful eye on Charlie, Edgar had moved on to a new belief structure. It required human sacrifices and he had been dipping into the local homeless population for that purpose. The thought of it made him a little sick at the prospect. He knew that he needed to get him off the streets and back in Hell as soon as possible, but wouldn't be able to catch him until he surfaced again. Unfortunately, it meant that he would have to wait for the soul to start taking people again. Sam had been keeping track of the local news, hoping to see something about the missing homeless. He was hampered by the media's lack of coverage of the city's invisible population. He would have to think of something, but he didn't know where to begin on this one.

Setting his job aside for the moment, Sam closed the file and turned his attention to Charlie. The little baby was currently occupying himself with gnawing on one of his toys and banging it on the floor repeatedly. "Hey, little dude," he said, "whatcha doin'?"

The baby ignored him, choosing to keep his entire focus on his toy. Sam got up and walked over to Charlie, who looked up to see what was going. The little boy smiled toothlessly at him and laughed sweetly. Sam crouched down and picked him up. "Come on, buddy, it's time to get ready. You've got a doctor's appointment today and you need a bath."

He went about bathing Charlie and dressed him in an identical outfit to what Sam was wearing. It was nice to have someone who he could be a role model to, not that he made a very great one. Still, it was the only thing he felt really good about in his life, save for his relationship with Andi. Nothing else really amounted to much for him, nothing that he could think of at any rate.

Sam was in the middle of preparing Charlie's day bag, when he heard a knock at the door. Grabbing Charlie, who was trying to untie his shoes, he walked to the door and opened it. A young man was standing in his doorway, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He was taller than Sam and had dark hair that could stand a haircut. The most defining feature, though, was his ridiculous muscle mass. This guy was totally jacked, making Sam feel a little self-conscious about his own body. On top of all those observations, Sam realized that there was something familiar about this person, but he couldn't quite place it. "Can I help you," he asked, settling Charlie against his shoulder.

"Are you Sam Oliver?" asked the other man.

"I am. May I ask who you are?"

"My name's Sam Winchester. You called Bobby Singer about my father the other week."

* * *

They were sitting in the living room, both drinking coffee. Sam, who had taken to calling his visitor Winchester in his mind, was studying the other man. According to the police, he was supposed to be dead. It was on his mind and he wanted to ask the particulars behind that, but thought that he really didn't want to know the truth. Winchester was looking at Charlie, who was sitting rather patiently on Sam's lap and looking back at the stranger curiously.

"I'm sorry to hear about your father," said Sam, trying to start a conversation he had given up on expecting to happen.

"The message you left for Bobby said that my father was listed as your godfather," said Winchester, setting his mug on the coffee table.

"Yes, I discovered this only recently. Would you like to see it?"

"I would," said the other man, his expression absolutely unreadable.

"Alright, give me a minute." Sam stood up. "Would you hold Charlie for me while I go get it?"

"Uh, sure," said Winchester, looking a little nervous at this. Sam handed the baby over to the other man, who looked extremely uncomfortable and awkward at having to do this. Leaving them to get to know each other, Sam went into his room and found his birth certificate. He came back to see Winchester bouncing little Charlie on his knee and making ridiculous noises at him. Charlie was laughing and gurgling merrily, just soaking up the attention like a sponge.

"Got it," said Sam, deciding to interrupt the two of them. Winchester jumped in shock and almost sent Charlie flying. The baby didn't seem to mind and actually expressed further joy at the extra big bump. The two adults exchanged baby for document and Sam settled back in his seat. Winchester glossed over the certificate and said, "well damn, that's my old man's signature, alright."

"So, he was my godfather, but why didn't my parents ever tell me about him?" asked Sam, partially to himself and to his guest.

"Well, my father was a bit of a drifter; he probably moved on and your parents decided not to tell you about him because of that."

"I'd like to believe that, but knowing my parents as I do now, I have trouble buying it. They kept so much from me that I just tend to think they had ulterior motives for everything. I mean, how did they meet? What circumstances led to them knowing and trusting him enough to label him my godfather? No offense to your dad; I'm just trying to figure this out."

"None taken. My old man wasn't exactly a stable figure. I don't wish to speak negatively about him, especially now that he's passed on, but it's the truth. There may have been a time when he did something to greatly endear himself to your parents –something he's been known to do from time to time –and then left them and you. After my mom died, we moved around a lot and my dad busied himself with helping people. It's easy to assume that he helped your parents at one time and they were grateful enough to show him some sort of token of appreciation." Winchester concluded by picking his coffee up and taking another sip of it.

"I'm not disagreeing with you here; it's just that it's not the only thing my parents kept from me. Now, I don't want to get in to the details of it all, but I'll tell you that they kept some pretty crucial pieces of information from me and it hurt badly to find them out. In fact, some of this has endangered my life," said Sam, draining the last of his coffee, before setting the empty coffee cup on the table.

At the mention of his life being endangered, Sam Winchester perked up a little. He leaned in a little more and maintained steady eye-contact. "I think we're both talking about something big here, something we're both dancing around. Those things that your parents kept from you; I imagine that the truth behind them must sound strange, perhaps even impossible, the kind of stuff that if you told someone, they wouldn't believe you. Am I right?"

"You wouldn't be wrong," admitted Sam, "but what do you know of it?"

"Well, as I told you before, my dad started helping people around the country after my mom died. The problems he helped people with were…different than what most people go through. I do that same job now, myself."

"How 'different' were these problems you speak of?" asked Sam, cradling Charlie.

"The type of problems they throw you in the loony bin over, if you talk about them to anyone."

"I see," replied Sam, feeling odd at having this conversation. "Well, I don't know particularly why he's been listed as my godfather, but I understand how he might've been associated with my parents now. I'd like to talk with you more about this, but he's got a doctor's check-up today," he said, looking down at Charlie. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"For a few days," replied Winchester.

"Good. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all, what's your number?"

Sam gave him his cell number and the two of them shook hands and said their goodbyes, before parting ways for the time being.

* * *

Taking Charlie to the doctor's office and back had exhausted Sam, who was beginning to feel the effects of hunger and sleep deprivation. He knew that it was a bad sign and that he needed to take care of it, somehow. It hurt to acknowledge, but the Devil had made a good point the other night. Sam did need to let it all out and he needed someone to go to with it. The problem was that there was nobody for him to turn to, no one who could take the weight of it for him. Automatically excluded from this was Andi; there was no way in hell he would ever burden her with this. Second to be struck from the list were Sock and Ben jointly, Sock because there was the chance that he would just call Sam a whiner (something Sam didn't think he could handle just then) and Ben because he was too much of a worrier and would possibly let it affect his work too much.

Beyond those he had just listed in his mind, Sam saw no other viable choice. Sam had also considered Tony, but there were so many reasons against that idea. For one, Tony was in the middle of rethinking a lot of things about his life already and Sam had intruded on that enough already. Another reason was that there was some lingering distrust on Sam's end. He knew and trusted Tony well enough to know that he would help him against the Devil, but not enough to trust him with all his secrets and his pain. Silent Hill was a monument of darkness and suffering, an emblem representing all his fear and guilt. It was where he had lost himself and the last of his own light. From it all, his innocence had been destroyed and his own personal demons had been released. In the end, when the lid of that pandora's box had been slammed shut, all that remained inside was the dull glow of his second chance: Charlie.

The mere thought of the little baby caused Sam to peek in the rear-view mirror to steal a glimpse of him sleeping in his seat. He would need to stay strong for the little boy who now depended on him. With that, Sam spotted a diner and pulled into the parking lot. Getting out, he collected Charlie and went inside. The place smelled of grease, reminding him of every other diner he had ever been in. A flurry of bussers and waitresses were hurrying about, each looking overworked and underpaid. Sam walked over to the hostess, who got him a menu. "Just you two?" she asked.

"Uh, Yes. Do you have a high-chair?"

"Yes, I'll get it for you in a second. First, let me find you a table." She ushered him over to a window booth in the corner and set the menu down. "Here you go, Hon. I'll be back in a jiffy with that high-chair." The waitress rushed off leaving them alone for a moment.

Sam set Charlie in his car-seat on the table and sat down. It wasn't long before she came back with the chair and he got Charlie settled in it. He ordered a burger and fries for himself and an order of apple sauce and fish sticks for Charlie, figuring he could mash the fish sticks down a little for the baby if need be. Besides, according to the doctor, Charlie could probably handle a little more solid food every once in a while.

He was in the middle of forcing food down his throat, while taking the time to coax Charlie into eating some of the fish sticks he had mashed and broke apart, when he felt a presence looming over his shoulder.

"Sam? Sam Oliver?" asked a familiar voice.

Turning his head, he discovered it to be Sam Winchester. "Oh, hello again. What brings you here?"

"This place isn't too far from my motel, so I thought I'd stop by to get something to eat real quick."

"I see. Well, you're welcome to have a seat if you would like," Sam offered, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"Thank you, I think I will." Winchester sat down in the offered seat and the waitress set his menu down and took his drink order. He opened the menu and began looking through it, asking, "would you recommend anything here?"

"I've never actually been here before, but the burger's alright, I guess."

Winchester nodded thoughtfully at that and continued to look through his options. When the waitress came back, he ordered a burger for himself and handed the menu back to here. The waitress left and the newcomer settled his gaze on Sam, scrutinizing him with some unknown guideline and coming to a conclusion. "Usually, I wouldn't be so straightforward with someone I didn't really know, but I get the feeling that this is different, that you are different."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam, some part of him dreading where this conversation might go down.

"I'm not entirely sure myself, but I feel that it's for the best. I go around the country and help people with problems of a…supernatural nature."

Sam lifted an eyebrow, his thoughts going wild with what that could possibly mean and entail. Taking a drink of his soda to wash down the food in his mouth, he leaned in closer to give more careful attention to his companion. "Supernatural?" he queried to prompt the other man to continue.

"Yes, I help fight spirits, monsters, and demons (this last one definitely got Sam's attention). Those are just a few things I help take care of, there are tons more different things I've seen and handled. My point is that I'm here to help people with problems that society can't deal with. Sam, you have such a problem, don't you?"

There it was, the falling of the other shoe. Sam didn't know how he should respond to that question. Granted, a bit of help from some kind of expert in the field would be wonderful, but he still didn't really know this guy. Something told him to trust the other man, at least a little. The whole Devil thing would have to be left out, but maybe he could tell him about some of his problems without being too specific.

"I don't know if I should tell you everything," he began, "but I guess I could share some of it. Before I was born, my parents made a deal with something. My father was sick and this thing came to them with a cure. In return, it wanted the soul of their first-born, me. I didn't know about any of this until about a year ago when I turned twenty-one and the being came to me and I got the lowdown. Now, I have to work for it to capture those that belong to it, those that don't belong here."

Winchester appeared to be taking in what he had said. "It's hard for me to say how I can help you with so little information. I get the feeling that you don't want to identify this being by name, so tell me what you have to capture for it and we can go from there."

"Escaped souls from Hell," answered Sam and he felt some weight, one he hadn't noticed with all the other baggage he carried, lift from him in saying that.

"Wait, escaped souls from Hell?" asked the other man, sounding a bit skeptical.

Winchester's reaction was almost funny to Sam, leading him to wonder if his problem was far more than the other could handle or had ever even dealt with. Mostly, though, it only made him feel lower and more helpless. "Yeah," he said as he looked down at his plate, anything to avoid the other man's eyes.

"So, it's a demon that you're forced to work for, is that it?"

Sam only nodded in response.

"I've never heard of a deal with a demon where someone else's soul was what got traded. To be honest, I never thought it was even possible for a person's soul to be traded off without their permission." Winchester took a drink.

Sam felt crushed for some reason, despite knowing from the beginning that this stranger wouldn't be able to help him.

The other man apparently read his reaction and said, "listen, I'm still gonna do my best to help you, but I'm gonna need to make a phone call and do some reading. I still got your number and I can give you a call when I've got something." He paused and took another drink. "Tell me more about these souls you have to capture; what are they like?"

"Well, each one is different from the rest…" began Sam, going through a brief description of what it was like to capture escaped souls from Hell. He described all the different vessels he had been given to use on them and how they worked. It made him feel better, somehow, to talk about this with Sam Winchester. It was like a noxious poison was being drawn from his veins and allowing him to heal in some way.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Just so we're clear, this is set during Dean's stay in Hell. For the next story in my little trilogy, the aspects of how that plays out will be AU. To me, it is too difficult to adequately cross the two shows over without one of them being tinkered with in some way, and this fic being Reaper-centered, Supernatural had to be the one to bite the bullet. Another thing: the dialogue between Sam and Andi was difficult to nail down in the chapter and I'm still not entirely pleased with it, but I didn't want to spend forever on something I wasn't sure I could get absolutely right.

* * *

Chapter 7: The Children of Edgar Ross

For a brief time after his revealing conversation with Sam Winchester, he had felt almost exuberant. That night, he had even managed a respectable five hours of sleep and had dinner, as well. The next day, he could feel the benefits of that extra energy and started a more vigorous search for Edgar. He had all but given up on the media to tell him about the homeless situation. With that avenue being closed off, he took to the streets to talk to the homeless himself.

Sam left Charlie with Ben and took Sock out to help him talk to these people. Sock, he decided, would be helpful here, as he was actually quite good at communicating with them. Every time they went downtown, he would always manage to strike up a conversation with someone living on the street. It was a gift that Sock had, something that Sam had always been a little envious of. It was the ability to talk to pretty much anyone without that awful sensation that he felt every time he stepped out of his comfort zone.

The two of them spent hours on the streets, trying to dig up as much usable information as possible. It cost them over fifty bucks and Sock's jacket to find out that some people who lived around Pioneer Square had been disappearing without a trace in the past week. Three people in total had been taken in that time, since just about after they flushed Edgar out of the mission. By the end of the day, they had gotten specific locations for these people and where they normally bunked down for the night.

Sam and Sock purchased a city map before heading home. When they got there, Sam tacked the map to the wall and pin-pointed the locations of the three homeless men and saw that they made for a rather large triangle. It seemed like a large area to search and he wasn't entirely certain where to begin. Ben suggested they try to identify all the abandoned property in the area and start searching those. It was the best (by virtue of being the only) idea they had to go off of, so Sam agreed to it and they began a plan to search all these places.

At one point, he had made the effort to stop by the bank and got a balance on his account. True to word, the Devil had credited his account with fifteen grand. He made arrangements to automatically transfer money to his friends' accounts, so that they could get paid for their troubles. With that taken care of, Sam was able to concentrate more fully on the job at hand.

Later that afternoon, they had a more-or-less complete list of possible locations for that part of Seattle. It would take forever to look through all those buildings and that was ignoring the distinct possibility that Edgar wasn't even located there. For all Sam knew, he could just be sending his followers out to that part of town to throw off the scent. Unfortunately, he didn't see any other option just then and would have to suck it up and give it a shot.

Their plan was to try later that night and hope they got lucky, a plan he didn't feel all that great about. It was too late to bitch openly about it, though, as he had already given it an okay. Regardless, they would have to be ready for it and that meant getting all their supplies together. It was fortunate that Sock and Ben had already taken the opportunity to replenish their stock of explosives. This time, they abandoned the gun idea and got more close range weaponry. Ben was wielding a wood chopping axe and Sock had procured for himself a sledge hammer and used any available opportunity he had to play with it lovingly. Sam had been given a machete with a sheath for his belt, needing something lighter and one-handed since he had to carry the auto-crossbow.

By early evening they had all their equipment sorted out and ready to go for when they headed out. Their plan wasn't to leave for several more hours when Andi showed up to watch after Charlie. He and Andi had decided that it would be better for her to come over there and look after him after the whole Josie incident. For the time being, they had nothing to do and spent the free time (with Sam taking breaks to tend to Charlie) playing video games, his mind elsewhere.

It was a couple hours before Andi showed, carrying a paper shopping bag. "Hi guys," she said, shutting the door. "I got dinner."

All three of them got up at once and headed over to the kitchen, Sam snagging Charlie from his little play area along the way. He gave her a kiss and peeked into the bag to see what she had brought. It turned out to be Chinese food and plenty of it, something hadn't had in awhile. "Thanks for dinner, babe," he said.

"You're welcome," she replied smiling, just before she returned his kiss with one of her own on the cheek. Ben grabbed plates from the cupboard and they started dishing out the food. Sam, knowing that Charlie couldn't have any of it, went about preparing him some formula. Andi snuck up behind him, snaking her arms around his midsection when she got up close and said, "Do you have any idea how cute you look when you're being all dad-like?"

Sam smiled and said, "like sexy cute or just boring old kid cute?"

"Hmm, is it wrong to think both?"

He laughed and said, "Maybe. I don't think I wanna explore that in detail, though."

"Well, alright then, let's just eat," she replied, letting go of him.

"I can get behind that," he responded, pulling Charlie's formula from the microwave.

The four of them plus Charlie sat down at the dining table and started eating, with Charlie sucking hungrily away at his bottle. He had just gotten strong enough to hold the bottle with his own hands, freeing Sam from having to hold it for him. There seemed to be something tragic about no longer being needed for that anymore, like the baby needed him less and was making some sort of step towards independence. It was laughable, he understood that, but he couldn't quite shake it from his mind.

As they all ate, they tried to keep dinner conversation to light-hearted small talk, but it didn't stay that way for very long. Eventually, Andi asked about their mission and how it was going. Sam had been trying his level best to avoid this topic since the Devil had told him what it all entailed. He knew that she would find out at some point, but he was desperately hoping that it wouldn't be until after they completed the task and the souls were all roasting in Hell where they belonged. As it was, if the insistent look on her face was any gauge, he was going to be forced to tell her right here at the dinner table.

"So tell me," she began after finishing off her broccoli beef, "why is it taking you so long to capture this soul? I mean I don't want to put you guys on the defensive and I'm sure you're all doing a great job of it, even though you haven't told me about any of it, so I'm just guessing there, but it's been about a week now and you haven't caught him yet. What about this soul is making it so difficult?" Andi leveled a steadfast gaze to all three of them to gauge their reactions.

"Um, uh, well you see," Sam hemmed and hawed at her, trying to come up with something to placate her and move things on to a much friendlier subject. Sock and Ben weren't any better at it either, as they just tried to look around the room and ignore Andi altogether.

"Sam, you guys, what aren't you telling me?"

"It's just that there's more than one soul to go after this time and I didn't wanna worry you."

"Well, how many is more than one soul?" she asked, looking a little concerned.

"Oh, just a few," Sam started saying.

"Considering the three we've already got, there's thirteen left to go," interrupted Sock.

Sam closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath, before saying," thank you Sock, that was very helpful of you."

"Thirteen!?" Andi cried out. "Oh God, Sam, why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Like I said, I didn't wanna worry you. I thought if you knew then you would just worry about it constantly and I guess I just didn't want that for you." He tried to look as sheepish as he could, hoping that it would be enough to assuage her coming fury; it wasn't.

"I will be the judge of what's for me, Sam. I don't need you to treat me like I'm made of glass; I can handle it and I do not appreciate any chauvinism from you. You've been doing that a lot lately and I put up with it because I thought you needed some space, but if this how you're gonna act about everything, then I don't know."

_Shit, _he thought, _she looks fuckin' pissed. _And she did; her face was contorted with what had to be anger and veins were popping out all over her neck and head. He needed to do or say something to calm her down, but he was at a loss at what he could possibly say to accomplish that. "I'm sorry, but that's not it at all."

"Then what is it?" she asked angrily.

"I wanted to protect you because I love you and I just wanted you to be safe and happy. If you think that's sexist in some way, then I don't know what to tell you. Look, it was obviously a mistake to keep this from you and I'm sorry for trying, but I didn't know what else to do."

"What you should've done was come to me and tell me the truth and trust in me to be strong enough to deal with it." Andi sounded less angry, but he wasn't about to fool himself into thinking that he was in the clear.

"Okay, I was wrong. You're absolutely right and I should've told you about this, but it wasn't because I thought you couldn't handle it. I just didn't want you to have to."

"Well, that's not as bad, I guess. I'm still mad at you, Sam, but I'll let it go for now."

"That's great," said Sam, smiling. "I was worried that you were gonna kill me for a second there."

"Make no mistake, that option's still on the table, it's just no longer a guarantee."

"Hey guys?" said Ben from his seat at the table. "Are we done?"

"Yes Ben, we're done," said Andi, sounding calm and pleasant, almost as if she and Sam hadn't just been in an argument. "So, now that I know, how about you guys bring me up to speed on your plan?"

Between the three of them, they got Andi up to speed fairly quickly, leaving out the whole thing about the demonic rats entirely. Sure, it went against everything Sam and Andi had just argued over, but this time he knew that he shouldn't tell her. Ben wrapped things up with their plans to explore all the abandoned buildings in the area, which led to Andi sitting up and looking like she had something to say.

"You know, there're more than just abandoned buildings around Pioneer Square, there are plenty of other places to hide there."

"Andi, I doubt that the souls are gonna hang out in a place with other occupants in it. It just doesn't seem to be their thing. I think Edgar prefers to keep his flock isolated from the rest of the world, even when he's in the middle of the city," said Sam.

"I'm not talking about **occupied **buildings, just not abandoned ones. Saint Ignacious is right off of Pioneer and it's currently being renovated. The whole congregation has been transferred to another church while the improvements are being made. Last I heard, they were still neck-deep in the project."

"How'd you know that?" asked Sock.

"My Grandma's a member of that church and it's all she ever talks about anymore. Then again, her church is all she **ever** really talks about, now that I think about it."

Sam, Sock, and Ben all looked at each other, silently mulling over the idea with each other. A consensus came in a matter of seconds and Sam turned to Andi and asked, "Do you have the address of this place, by chance?"

"I can do you one better, Sam, and give you directions. The only thing is that it's surrounded by a really tall fence, so you're gonna have to search around for a way in. There are some alleyways behind it and whatnot that I would say should be promising; I would try those first."

The three of them stared at her a bit dumbstruck. Sock eventually asked, "what? Have you been casing the joint, or something?"

"No," she defended, sighing, "I've just had to go there so many times, the layout's been burned into my brain."

"Right," said Sock, sounding unconvinced.

"Oh, layoff Sock," she said.

The four of them finished up dinner, Sam breaking off early to get a cranky Charlie out of his high chair and into his arms. He spent the rest of his time with the baby and Andi, while Sock and Ben went about getting the supplies down to the car. Sam went over the things he thought she would need to know about Charlie's needs, eliciting an exasperated response from Andi. She impressed upon him that she indeed know everything he was showing and telling her. When Sock and Ben returned from their task, the three of them left and told Andi goodnight.

* * *

They reached their destination and found an all-day parking lot nearby to park their car. Grabbing their things, they went around the lot, scoping it out. It was hard to see any of the building itself, due to the high-fence and because it was night. Walking around, they discovered a large drainage hole across the alley from the fence-line.

Ben discovered that he could pry the grate up with the head of his axe and they lifted it up. Sam went in first, dropping through the hole and landing deftly at the bottom. His feet splashed up a lot of water, drenching his legs in the dank filth. Sock came down after, hitting the ground with much less finesse and his legs failed to support him. His body collapsed on the cold wet concrete drainage tunnel and he groaned in pain.

When Ben had joined them, they followed the cramped tunnel to the point where it dropped off into an open space overlooking the construction site. The old portion of the church was uphill and just above level with their position. They had been rebuilding downhill, the end of the renovated wing set out directly in front of them. Getting down to the ground would be the problem, as it was somewhere around ten or so feet down.

"Not exactly prime real estate here, now is it?" said Ben, looking at the property with a critical eye.

"No kidding," added Sock, "I mean, who builds a church in the middle of a concrete pit?"

"Those who don't have enough money to move their church to a better location," Said Sam. "Now come on, let's get this done."

"So what, do we jump down, because I'm still hurtin' from the last one," said Sock.

"We take the ladder down; the one right there along the side," he answered, pointing to the right. Sock and Ben looked at where he was pointing to and saw that there was indeed a series of metal ladder rungs sticking out of the concrete, leading all the way down to the ground below.

The three of them climbed down the ladder and reached the wet soggy ground at the bottom. Garbage and construction litter was scattered all over the place, patches of wild grass sticking out in spots in the sea of trash. Sam got his crossbow out and strapped on his utility belt. Sock and Ben got theirs' on as well, getting their weapons out with them. When all three of them had equipped themselves, they began a search of the property.

For the next five minutes, they wandered around outside and looked for the best point of entry. Eventually, they decided on entering through the basement after finding a stairwell along the rear end of the church that led to an ancient-looking wood door. The padlock on it had been broken off at some point, allowing them entrance. It was a good sign that this was the right place and the souls inhabited this old church currently. Sam took the lead, as he preferred to do, and discovered that it led to a storage room. Mostly it was old furniture that was being stored here, but some boxes of hymnals and set pieces for plays could be seen amongst the stacks of old pews and chairs.

He motioned to them silently to follow him, as he led them through the old junk deep into the heart of the eerie old church. Everything was coated in a thick film of dust, a consistent theme in his new life; it was suggestive of abandonment and of all the lost things. Turning his mind away from that –as he found he often had to –Sam kept his focus strictly on his surroundings. The air in here was stagnant and felt harsh in his lungs, the urge to cough it all out almost overwhelming.

In the dark and silent, it seemed as if this basement went on forever. They had left the room they had initially found themselves in and were now creeping the way down a very narrow corridor. Sam was keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of a staircase up, without any luck so far. Eventually, they came across an open doorway. His light caught the door frame at an angle, the effect of which was that the interior of the room was shielded by formidable-looking shadows.

He edged silently up to the door and peaked inside, trying to let some light in, but not too much. Sam almost lost his composure at the sight before him. Piled practically from floor to ceiling, were those awful little creatures, those 'brimstone rats'. They appeared dead, but he could here this awful rhythm of breath and the slight rumble of a uniformed snoring. These pint-sized monstrosities were synched up, somehow, in their breathing and probably in even more of their basic organic functions. It all made for one incredibly terrible sensation; something that almost rivaled some of what he had encountered in that other place, in Silent Hill.

Sam motioned for his companions to back away and leave this area immediately, which got him some pretty confused looks in return. Regardless, they heeded his order without question or complaint, something he was incredibly grateful for. When they had reached a reasonable distance away from the slumbering horde, Sam whispered as quietly as he could. "The rats are in that room."

"Really?" asked Sock, just as quietly.

"Yes, they appeared to be sleeping."

"Do you think it was all of them?" asked Ben, keeping the discussion going.

"Maybe, I don't know," replied Sam. "It was a lot of them, I know that."

"Uh guys," chipped in Sock, looking past the two of them at something that was out of sight.

As one, Sam and Ben slowly turned around and came face to face with one of the escaped souls, its cloak flapping about in a nonexistent breeze. His light, which should've illuminated at least the bottom part of its face, showed absolutely nothing beyond that dark impossible void. As soon as they stopped their movements and faced the thing directly, it let out this ear-splitting shriek, thereby alerting everything that lurked within these old halls. The fallout of this action was instantaneous, as answering shrieks sounded off all around them. It had awakened the horde, complicating the matter severely.

Immediately after the soul in front of them stopped its banshee scream, Sam aimed the crossbow at its midsection and pulled the trigger. A bolt flew out and struck it squarely in the gut and it was instantly sucked back into the vessel, taking the damned soul with it. Turning to his friends, he said, "you guys try your best to hold back the horde, while I go after the souls. We cannot allow the two groups merge; that would just make things worse."

"Uh yeah," replied Sock, "we'll be successful at that, I'm sure."

The two of them turned to face the direction the horde had been spotted in, their weapons at the ready. Sam shot out one last thing to them as he started in the direction the soul had come from. "And try not to burn the place down if at all possible, Andi would kill me." With that, he ran down the hall and turned the corner, coming upon the illusive staircase. He took it up two steps at a time, making it to the upper landing quickly. It led out into an open hallway, which he immediately scoped out in both directions. Deciding on which way to go, he tore down the hall and started hunting after his prey.

Sock and Ben stood side by side solidly, waiting the oncoming tide of rats. They could be heard growling and screeching, clattering their way towards the duo rapidly. All too soon, the horde rushed at them, jumping and climbing all over each other in their desperate scramble. The creatures were piling up into a writhing organic wall, all shifting flesh and claws. In seconds they crashed into the two assistant bounty hunters, who responded by swinging out their weapons. Countless rats were knocked away and killed, but more just took their place. Tiny body parts and that noxious black blood flew everywhere, coating everything in the thickened goo.

Several rats leapt onto Ben, driving him to his knees and getting Sock's attention. He used his hammer as carefully as he could and started knocking the horrid beasts off of his friend, while making sure he wasn't being overwhelmed himself. Ben, once free, started in again on mercilessly slaughtering the monsters. It didn't seem to matter how many they killed, because wave after wave of them climbed over their fallen and maimed comrades and forced the two friends back toward the corner that the staircase was located around.

Sam, meanwhile, was running and looking for his enemy. He figured that they would mostly be located in the assembly hall, where their sacrifices were probably made. It didn't take him long to reach the hall and he burst out into the room, where he discovered the vast majority of the souls all congregated together and staring right at him. He had just enough time to aim his vessel at one and fire at it. The bolt hit its target dead-on and it was pulled into the crossbow, as Sam was tucking and rolling to the side. Several of those odd blasts of green energy flew through the spot he had just been occupying. They smashed into the pews, sending their shattered wood remnants flying and burning through the air.

He popped up from his new location behind a row of pews and fired at one, his shot going wide and embedding harmlessly in the wall behind it. As one, the souls began firing at him again. Sam could only fall to the floor and press his body flat, as the blasts sailed past him and singed his face, as they sheared through the wood above. His eyes were clenched tightly shut to protect him from the debris and the intensity of the light from the beams. Immediately after it flew by, he rolled himself over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet, where he launched himself forward ferociously. Several more blasts followed, each one just seconds behind him, as he ran at top speed. It was extremely hard to run so fast through the tight passage between the rows of pews, but he managed to get through and dove behind a pillar on the far end.

As for Sock and Ben, they were being forced back up the stairs, the horde pressing them back relentlessly. Dozens and dozens of rats were left to be trampled by their comrades, who thoughtlessly marched over them. Several of the things were even climbing up the walls and jumping down on them, their claws trying to rend through flesh without regard. Sock had decided enough was enough and he pulled out a pipe bomb. Getting behind Ben, he used that brief moment of space to light it up and lob it somewhere into the crowd of them. Using his free hand to grab the collar of Ben's jacket, he pulled him back and up the stairs. The pipe bomb thankfully bounced off the wall and disappeared around the corner, giving them some protection from the blast. Sock and Ben raced up the stairs hounded closely by the mass of rats behind them. The pipe bomb ignited and shook the very foundations mightily, sending them falling to their faces on the stairs and sliding back into the stunned mob of monsters. It felt wrong to have their lower halves stuck inside a pile of the disgusting things and they quickly kicked their way up and out, getting away in time to avoid the crowd as they recovered their senses. Ben pulled out a pipe bomb of his own and yelled out, "light me!"

Sock, once they reached the upper landing, sparked the lighter he kept handy and lit the fuse. Ben dropped the bomb squarely into the unrelenting horde and they ran around the corner into the hallway. The second blast brought them to their knees and they got up as one, turning their heads to see what was going on with the little beasts behind them. Body parts and whole bodies were flying out from the hole and smacking into the growing crowd below. This time, the rats weren't so affected by the blast and they were still pressing on unhindered. Out here, though, Sock and Ben had much more room to swing their weapons and they did so with utter abandon. It was a vicious and brutal scene, the two of them side by side, mowing their foes down in an orgy of small bodies and that odd black blood.

In the assembly hall, Sam had left his temporary shelter behind the pillar and tried a somersault, hoping he did much better than he did the last time he tried the move. Two more blasts followed closely behind, one of them crashing into the pillar he had just been using for cover. He had hit the ground and rolled forward fluidly, just as the walkway the pillar was supporting buckled and collapsed to the floor below. Something large clipped the side of his face and he immediately felt the burn of the cut. Sam turned to face where he thought his enemy was and fired, his shot hit one not ten feet from him, its form converting into a field of red energy that flickered with an eldritch glow before flying back into the crossbow. Just then, he felt the rumbling of something exploding somewhere below and he fired at another one, missing it by inches. He fired two more shots, which it dodged, before Sam gave up and rolled out of the way and into a corner, as the other souls started taking potshots at him again.

The souls sent an entire barrage of green blasts that slammed side by side into the stretch of wall that he had just come from, shattering the majority of the support pillars holding the walkway up. Coupled with the weakened portion from the earlier hit, that whole section of that walkway collapsed and crumbled loudly to the floor. Dust and debris rained down over everything, while Sam was crawling quietly away, hoping to give the impression that they had got him. He managed to creep his way to the end of the row right next to the center aisle, where he spotted one not five feet from his position. Aiming carefully, he fired and tagged another soul.

The action of the soul being sucked into the vessel attracted the attention of the other souls, who turned to face him. Sam ran across the aisle and dove to the floor on the other side, taking cover behind the pews, as they began firing at him again. From his angle on the floor, he could see the front of an alter that had to have been added recently. Drops of blood dripped down from the side, collecting in a pool on the floor below.

A sound coming from where he had run from, when he had found himself in the assembly hall, got his attention. Sam poked his head up, seeing that Sock and Ben had been forced all the way back to the entrance to the hall, the barely restrained tide of rats was a flurry of activity on the other side. They had managed to distract the souls, of which he counted six, who turned to face them. He took the opportunity to bag yet another soul, before yelling at the two of them to get out of the way. Sock and Ben turned to look, their eyes going comically wide at what they saw. Simultaneously, they dove to the side, each one breaking away in different directions. The souls let loose with their trademarked barrage of green energy strikes. Their shots flew into the open hallway, devastating the frontlines of the advancing army of rats.

Sam stayed crouched down and ran as fast as he could to his friends' position, keeping an eye on the remaining souls. He was almost to them, when the remaining rats burst through the charred husks of their fallen comrades, flooding the large space immediately. They overran everything indiscriminately, smashing uncontrollably into the souls and knocking them down. That was when everything descended into chaos. Rats were climbing up the walls and rushing over the broken ruins of damaged pews.

He could see Sock and Ben continuing their fight against the vicious little things, felling them with their weapons as quickly as they could. There was something so awful about seeing what his friends were turning into, about seeing them slaughtering countless living beings. It was something that he turned them in to and he felt that twinge of guilt return with a vengeance. Quashing it, he returned his attention to his quarry, trying to ignore the tiny monsters.

Sam struggled through the mob of rats, using his machete to force himself a path. It was too difficult to get a clear shot from his distance now and he needed to get closer. The place was in total pandemonium, with rats and souls rushing about everywhere. On top of that, he started to smell smoke. So much for not burning down Andi's grandma's church, that didn't look like it was in the cards anymore. A sound nearby got his attention just off to his right and he turned his head to look. A spark of fear rushed through him, seeing one of the souls standing right next to him, the palm of its open hand at point-blank range from his face. It began to charge its attack, lines of green light racing up from the arms and converging together in the center of the palm. In his peripheral vision off to the left of the soul, he could see the faint outline of a person standing there, holding something out at it. A flash of light and the loud bark of shotgun fire flared out, striking it in the face. The soul screamed in unholy pain and rage and flew off to escape. Sam looked over to see who his rescuer was, seeing that it was Sam Winchester, a sawed-off shotgun in his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter, just so you know, is one long action sequence. The guys really get to be action heroes in this one, especially Sam (Oliver). I don't know if you guys will enjoy reading it, but I most definitely enjoyed writing it. Please R&R, I could use some feedback. (Remember: flames are more than welcome).

* * *

Chapter 8: The Legendary Downtown-Seattle Incident

"What the hell are you doin' here!?" screamed Sam in the middle of slicing the head off a rat.

"I followed you guys here from your apartment," replied Winchester, who was using his shotgun like a club to knock one of the little bastards away. "I had a few things to discuss with you when I saw you and your friends leaving the garage."

Sam tried to hit another soul, missing it by inches. He was about to try again, when something slammed into the back of his legs, sending him flying back to the floor. His back slammed into the hardwood floor, pain flaring out into his body from the point of impact. The crossbow and the machete were knocked from his hands, both weapons skidding away out of reach. He felt something haul itself onto his legs and rush up his body all the way to his face. Sam reached and grabbed a hold onto the creature and flung it away somewhere into the melee. It felt like an eternity before he was able to collect himself together enough to get back to his feet, and he immediately sought out the vessel once he had done so.

Blasts of green energy were being shot out in all directions, but it was hard to figure out exactly what was going on in the darkness and building smoke. It was pouring in from the hallway they had all come from, shrouding everything in its thick haze. Finding their new ally, he yelled out, "so, why did you decide to follow us?"

"Your friends were packing some serious equipment into your car and I thought I would come check out what you were up to," answered the other man, as he cracked the skull of one of the miniature beasts.

Sam spotted his vessel laying on top of a small pile of dead rats and he dove for it, as a green blast whizzed by his head and slammed into something in the background. He snatched up the crossbow and looked for a soul to take down, finding the vague silhouette of one darting by in the shadows. Firing at it reflexively, his shot missed and he was forced to duck down again to avoid getting hit by one of those blasts. By this point, he was shocked that the place was still standing, given how much damage it had taken so far.

The smoke was getting thicker and it was starting to get difficult to breathe in it. He coughed violently and found a soul sneaking up on Ben, who was brutally cutting down a cluster of rats standing on a pile of rubble. Sam scored a direct hit, collecting yet another soul for the Devil. A rat leapt at him, stretching its arms out in a promise of unrestrained violence. Using the vessel like a club as he had seen Winchester do with his shotgun, Sam swung out and struck it in the head, sending the thing flying away into darkness. He stumbled forward, trying to get a bearing on the situation.

"STOP!" screamed out a voice from somewhere above. At once, the rats and the souls stopped what they were doing, silence settling in like an unwelcome guest. The four humans looked up to where the voice had originated from, seeing the stark figure of Edgar Ross standing regally on the balcony upstairs. "I must offer my congratulations to you, Mr. Oliver. You and your companions have done very well in fighting off my children."

"They haven't really put up much of a fight," challenged Sam, feeling confrontational.

He laughed and said,"I like what I see in you, Sam. You're different from the others; you're more like me than you are like them.

"I'm nothing like you!" protested Sam, feeling the heat of anger flushing his face.

"Join me," continued Edgar, ignoring Sam's proclamation, "and we could do so much together, even topple the Dark One himself."

"No, you have nothing I want," responded Sam.

"Very well, I made the gesture."

"But thank you for letting me know where you were; that should make this less complicated." Sam hefted up his vessel and aimed it at Edgar, who ducked down out of sight.

The rats did something strange just then, backing away from the four of them and retreating to the front doors. They piled up against the doors and started pushing at them until they were forced open. The horde spilled out into the night, racing off into the darkness.

"Go after them!" yelled Sam to his friends, as he started looking for a flight of stairs. "Don't let them hurt anyone!" They followed his orders without question, running out the front doors to track down the mob of demonic monsters. The other souls were ascending slowly into the air and following after Edgar, who leapt over a corner of fallen walkway along the side of the hall to an open doorway leading into the renovated wing of the building.

Sam quickly found the stairs up near the front of the assembly hall, leading up through a dark narrow passage. He took them up as quick as possible, not noticing Sam Winchester following him doggedly. Reaching the top, he found himself in the back of the balcony and could see the last of the four souls disappearing into the doorway. With as much energy he could muster, Sam pushed himself forward as fast as he could. He was going to need all that speed to clear the distance to the opening, especially given the awkward angle he was going to have to jump at. The issue was made a little complicated with how unstable this walkway felt under his feet and how unbalanced it made him feel. Arriving at the end of useable floor, Sam crouched down and launched himself off of it, aiming himself toward the doorway. His land was a bit rough, but he not only made it across the expanse he also managed to stay on his feet.

As for Sam Winchester, he reached that same edge just as the remaining supports for that walkway buckled under the weight and stress. He was, in fact, in mid-leap when the walkway broke off from the wall and started collapsing into a makeshift ramp. The dropping floor impacted his jump and he only managed to get his upper body over the side, his lower half forced to dangle from the edge. It was only a matter of seconds for him to haul himself up onto the floor and get back up to his feet. Winchester pulled out his shotgun from his jacket again and continued his pursuit.

Sock and Ben left the church to see the mass of the creatures trying to climb up the tall fence. Sock grinned at Ben and grabbed a Molotov, something he had been pretty much been banned from inside the place. Now that they were outside, he figured that it was alright to use them again. Ben, who most definitely got the hint, graced him with his own smile and pulled out a Molotov. Together, they lit up their fire bombs and lobbed them at the upper portion of the fence, shattering the glass bottles. Liquid flames blossomed out like flowers and rained down upon the climbing rats. The nasty little monsters squealed in agony, as they started to drop back to the ground one-by-one. Sock and Ben threw a couple more molotovs at the fence, getting even more of the dwindling horde. For the first time since they had encountered the brimstone rats, their numbers didn't look so insurmountable. The remaining rats gave up on the fence and ran down the fence line, looking for a way out. Sock sighed in frustration and they continued their pursuit of the hell-bound creations.

Sam raced down the mess of exposed studs and construction supplies, jumping over and dodging to the side of various obstacles in his path. He could see the back end of a soul up ahead, barely visible in the darkness and his wavering flashlight beam. As he was running to catch up to it, Sam caught a bright flash of green in his peripheral vision off somewhere to the right. Without thought, he threw himself into a runner's slide, the beam coming down at an angle and just missing his head. The impact of the light tossed him over onto his stomach, splinters of wood flew all over and he felt a jarring lurch in the floor. Grabbing the crossbow, he forced himself back up and aimed it in the direction the light had come from. Seeing a darting figure, he fired again and missed. Cursing, he started running forward once more, trying to find his target.

Getting close to the end of the hall, he spotted a soul and stopped to aim. Lining his target up, Sam pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Squeezing the trigger again, he cursed when it still didn't do anything. He had run out of ammo and needed to replace the drum. Fortunately, he had already taken the initiative and figured out how to replace an empty drum earlier. Sam pulled out the spent ammo drum and slammed a fresh one in from his belt. Pulling back the bar, he set the first bolt in the chamber and brought the vessel back up in time to see a soul standing there in front of him. Pulling the trigger again, he quietly rejoiced as a bolt flew out and lodged in its gut. The soul was sucked into the crossbow and he turned to see Sam Winchester running up to him. He was about to protest the other man's presence when the guy tackled him to the floor. Another green beam of light sailed by where he had been standing, slamming into a stack of drywall behind him. It exploded into a mess of burning chunks that flew through the air and rained down on the two of them.

Both Sams rolled away from each other and started to get up. Winchester rolled right over next to one of the souls, as another fired off another shot where the two of them had been. The blast shook the support struts below them and they could feel the floor dip down a little. He looked up to see the soul standing before him, charging its odd attack. In truth, he had never seen anything quite like this and he had seen quite a lot in his time. Acting quickly, he swept his foot out and tripped the soul. It fell backward and the beam of green light shot wildly at the ceiling. The beam sheared through several support beams and the ceiling in that area collapsed, crashing noisily to the floor.

The floor buckled underneath them when the ceiling fell and it broke apart. Sam Winchester was taken with it and fell through the hole, smashing into the rubble below. Wood and drywall fell on top of him and the soul hit the floor next to him. For a few all too brief moments, silence immersed everything in its embrace. Groaning in pain, he sat up and saw the soul doing the same thing. He looked around for his shotgun and couldn't find it, evoking a muttered curse from him. The soul was trying to get to its feet and he needed to act quickly. Grabbing the knife from his belt, something he had gotten from Ruby, he reached over and slammed the blade into its gut.

The soul instantly screamed in pain and cracks of red light appeared all over its frame, spreading and widening quickly. It began to burn away, its body being reduced to nothing but embers. When it was all done, he got up, sheathed the knife and dusted himself off. Looking up, he saw Sam Oliver looking down through the hole at him, shock written clearly on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked him, getting over his surprise.

"I'm fine. I'll find a way up, don't worry about me."

"No, I'll handle this. Find my friends and help them. I get the feeling that they need it."

"Alright, but stay safe. We'll talk later."

"Got it," replied Sam, turning around and trying to get a fix on his prey. With nothing in sight, he started looking through the place randomly. Vessel in hand, he searched the entire wing and found nothing. He was convinced that they had doubled back and went returned to the assembly and was about to head back there himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an opening in the exterior wall, leading to some sort of walkway along the outside edge of the building.

He rushed out through the opening and found a ladder leading up to the roof off to his left. The sound of sirens could be heard somewhere in the distance, reminding him that there was a good chance that he was going to be in some serious trouble in the near future. Sliding his arm through the bow and string of the crossbow, he climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the roof. Edgar was standing there on the other side of the roof, his remaining two followers standing right next to him. Sam got his vessel and aimed it at the nearest soul, as it was partially blocking Edgar from view. Pulling the trigger, he let a bolt fly out and tag the soul and it was sucked into the vessel. Edgar and the other soul turned to face him and raised their hands to attack. He was about to fire again, but they beat him to the punch and let loose their own attack. The soul fired off the standard green light, but Edgar's attack was much larger. It was green like all the others, but it was much brighter and about three times as wide.

Sam dove to the side and rolled along the rooftop, as the two beams of green light sailed past and hit the building across the street. The explosion that followed shook the entire block and stone, brick, and wood flew everywhere, making him think of pretty much every war movie he had ever seen. Looking over to where his adversaries were, he saw Edgar leaping over the edge and jumping impossibly high and far all the way to the rooftop of the building on the other side of the alleyway. He got up and fired at the other soul and hit it dead on, sucking the damned thing into his weapon. Running over to the edge of the building where the soul had jumped over, he saw him standing on the rooftop waving obnoxiously at him.

Sock and Ben had followed the demonic rats to the far end of the lot, seeing them pour through the open gate. They ran over and passed through the gate, seeing that the padlock had been broken off. The rats wasted no time in causing complete and utter havoc. A small crowd had formed across the street to watch what was happening at the church and the creatures rushed over and started attacking them immediately. Screams and yells broke out amongst the group and everyone scattered in all directions. The scene was pure chaos with random people all over the place, rats clinging to their backs and biting and clawing at them. They immediately ran over and started killing the things, pulling them off the innocent bystanders and stomping, beating, and chopping them to death.

The sounds of small explosions could be heard coming from the church, adding to the cacophony of noise coming from all over. Smoke was starting to billow out from the building and sirens could be heard in the distance, no doubt in response to the incident here. Sock grabbed a rat off the back of a young black kid and threw it on the ground. He stomped his foot on it and the thing squealed in pure agony, so he did it again to shut it up. The rat stopped moving or making any sounds after that and he took his foot off of it. The kid thanked him and ran off into the night, making his escape from this impromptu nightmare.

At some point, that new guy who had joined them in the church, the one that Sam knew from somewhere, had run out and started assisting them in killing the rats. He was good, too, much better than Sock or Ben. The guy was going through these monsters like they were drugs and he was an addict, killing one after the other with machine-like efficiency. Much of the crowd had dispersed, but many still remained, somehow still in the vicinity of the monsters.

A bright green flare of light streaked out across the street from the church's rooftop and smashed into the face of the brick building on the other side. The explosion that followed was incredible, sending debris falling down all over the street and sidewalks. People and rats alike were hit by the falling projectiles, as they hit the ground. Sock, after taking a second to absorb what he had just seen, resumed his job of rat-slaying.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Sam could see Edgar taunting him silently from the top of the business he had jumped like a grasshopper onto. His anger boiled over and he knew he wasn't going to just give up and let the asshole go. No, this douchebag needed to be taken down and he needed to be taken down now. It was with that certainty that Sam achieved a measure of clarity: he was going to jump.

Backing away from the edge a respectable distance, Sam braced himself and ran full speed straight for that same edge. Just as he was about to reach the end and fall to his possible death, he folded his body down like a tightly coiled spring and launched himself over the side. The instant his feet left the roof, he could feel that odd tingling sensation that barely registered on his senses, the sensation of his powers at work. The air whipped by him as he leapt the great expanse, his body flying high and far, too high and far for a normal person to accomplish.

It was as he was starting to make his descent that Sam realized that his landing was going to be less than stellar. He was coming at the roof way too fast and at too steep an angle. This may have been a mistake, but at least he wasn't heading straight for the ground. Sam was coming down too fast to even properly brace himself for the impact and all he could do was try to roll his body to reduce injuries. Fortunately, falling was something Sam had gotten quite a bit of experience at in recent times, so he had some clue as to how he was to do that. Still, the impact with the gravel roof jarred his whole body and pain flared out bright and hot, causing him to lose all sense of what was going on temporarily. He rolled along the rooftop several times before he eventually came to a stop, his vessel flying off somewhere when he initially hit ground.

The first thing he was aware of, other than the mind-consuming pain, was the sound of laughter. Cracking open an eye, he saw that Edgar was standing there before him, his arms on his hips and laughter on his lips. Sam groaned in pain and pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow and ginger in an attempt to avoid any extra suffering in the process. When he had gotten to wobbly feet, he stared Edgar in the face, who had quieted down.

"Do you really want to play on my level right now, boy?" asked the escaped soul. "My children were weak and stupid, making for easy targets. It's no wonder how easy it was for you and your compatriots to take them down, but I'm different. Unlike them, I think and feel; I do not reflect whatever is put in front of me like a mirror. They made me powerful, a god made flesh."

"You're fuckin' nuts," wheezed out Sam, trying to catch his breath.

"Perhaps, but that is irrelevant. You see, that's the thing about mirrors, if you reflect light with one it makes it brighter and if you use several mirrors you can blind somebody. Their mindless devotion to me even in the bowels of Hell was all the reflection my light needed to grow bright and powerful. That is what makes a god, isn't it? The power that your worshippers give to you?"

"You're not a god, Edgar, you never were. Do gods run from devils?" challenged Sam.

"What are you talking about?" asked Edgar, sounding confused and a little angry.

"I'm talking about how you had to escape from Hell and His not-so-tender mercy like some kind of refugee. You're a victim, Edgar, and I know all about victimhood."

"I AM NOT A VICTIM!!" screamed Edgar, practically frothing at the mouth in his fury. With a broad sweep of his arm, he sent Sam flying back several feet to land painfully onto his back. "I AM A GOD!!"

Edgar Ross turned his back on Sam and looked down at the street somewhere off to his left, crouching down to jump again. Sam sprang to his feet, ignoring the pain, and stretched out his right hand to where the crossbow lay abandoned on the gravel roof. The vessel flew out into the air and landed obediently in his outstretched hand. Running as fast as he could, Sam followed after Edgar as he leapt off the side of the building. Looping his arm through that space between the bow and the string again, he jumped off the roof blindly, his arms stretched out wide.

Sock, Ben, and the new guy were just finishing up the last of the brimstone rats, when they heard the how loud the sirens were getting. The crowd of people had mostly dispersed, the only ones remaining were those too injured to go anywhere and those who were dead.

The new guy said, "we should get outta here before the police show up. My car's over this way." He gestured over to an alley across the street from the church, which was starting to show visible signs of burning from the outside beyond the smoke. The trio ran for the cover of that alleyway, disappearing into the shadows before the firefighters reached the scene.

Sock spotted a car parked in the alley, its features barely visible in the darkness. He could tell, though, that it was a sweet muscle car, something and old and beautiful. Getting up close to it, he realized that it was an Impala painted black, probably a late 60's model. Grinning, he proclaimed, "shotgun."

"What about Sam?" asked Ben.

"We'll find him," said the stranger. "We can take a loop around the area and see if we can spot him, but we still need to get outta here."

"What's your name?" asked Sock as they were getting in the vehicle, thinking that it was pertinent information to have."

"Name's Sam," said the guy.

"No, Sam's the name of our friend," replied Sock.

"I understand that, but it's also my name."

"Really?" asked Ben disbelievingly from the back seat.

Looking back at him, Sam Winchester said, "really."

He started the car and they pulled slowly out of the alleyway onto a side street. Turning left, they began their trip around the immediate area, looking out for Sam and the authorities. They pulled up to the intersection with the intent to make a left turn when a semi flew by headed right, veering wildly out of control with somebody crouched down on the roof of the trailer.

"Was that Sammy?" asked Sock to no one in particular. Winchester immediately turned right instead and followed after the semi.

Sam Oliver noticed that it was a semi that Edgar had chosen to drop down on. He was already on the roof of the cab, denting it severely. Reaching out with his mind, he cushioned his landing and hit rather softly on the trailer. Of course, it wasn't so soft for the truck, as the roof had been dented in like Edgar's landing. The truck veered around in the streets wildly in response to this and Edgar was reaching down over the side of the cab. Sam wanted to ready his vessel and get the son of a bitch, but it was taking all his concentration to keep himself on the truck and not fly off of it onto the street.

Edgar reached down and opened the driver's side door and pulled out the driver, throwing him violently out of the truck. He swung down over the side to occupy the wheel. The truck started lurching around even more wildly in an obvious attempt to launch Sam off the roof. It took everything he had to stay where he was and not let go. His powers went a long way in keeping that from happening, but he needed to do better. The truck veered around the corner to the right and started to speed up on the new road.

Sam had managed to find something to grip onto, relieving his mind of some of the responsibility of staying where he was. This allowed him to form better grips in the bent metal roof, using his powers to twist the steel into some sturdy hand and footholds. With that done, he was able to concentrate on the street ahead and prepare himself better for what was to come.

The truck smashed into a series of cars parked along the side of the road, a bright shower of sparks flying up in the air in response. Cars on the road were dodging to the side as it careened from lane to lane, some of them smashing into each other and flipping over onto their sides. One car even launched upward over the roof of another car and flipped over a few times, before smashing to the ground somewhere behind him.

Sam Winchester was doing everything he could to keep control of the car and follow the truck, which was driving more and more dangerously. It was smashing into cars and trucks and forcing some to smash into each other. Several vehicles started piling up on the left hand side, their frames twisting and lighting up in impressive displays of sparks. A Chevy Nova launched over the roof of a small hatch back and flipped over three times before it crashed into the street in his way. He maneuvered the Impala around it to the right, driving on the sidewalk to avoid it. His car smashed through a series of parking meters, hundreds of quarters spraying out everywhere. Sock whooped and hollered in obvious excitement, cheering him on. Swerving the car back into the street, he barely missed a lamp post.

"That was fuckin' awesome!" yelled Sock, his voice hitched with breathlessness.

He ignored the exclamation, opting to concentrate on the truck in front of them. It took a right turn all of the sudden, heading uphill. The entire right side of the semi lifted up off of the ground, threatening to roll it onto its side, before the wheels crashed back down on the street violently, sparks flying up from the wheel well. It lurched forward slowly, trying to build up steam in the face of gravity.

Fortunately, this road seemed to be devoid of any traffic for the time being and there were fewer innocents to harm. The truck still careened from side to side, Sam's body visibly straining to hold on up there. He wanted to get up closer to catch him on his hood if he fell off, but it was too dangerous to get up that close. It was frustrating that there was nothing he could do, except follow behind and hope that an opportunity to help arose somewhere along the way.

Sam Oliver was holding on with a vice grip and praying desperately to God to not let him die. He knew that if it weren't for his powers, he would've been thrown off this thing a long time ago. The bubble he had formed around himself to keep him rooted to the truck had the beneficial side effect of keeping the wind out of his eyes, allowing him to see what was coming. This new street headed uphill was thankfully empty of other cars, giving him a little breathing room. The truck was coming upon another intersection and showed no signs of slowing down in the slightest, leading him to hope that Edgar wasn't going to attempt another turn.

As they were speeding through the intersection, a pickup truck crossed their path from left to right. It smashed into the front left-corner of the semi, spinning around it to hit the broad side of the truck. The impact was violent and came close to knocking him off, his body slamming back down painfully onto the trailer roof. They continued past the new hunk of wreckage and plowed uphill again, heedless of the danger to anyone else. He had to get closer to Edgar, had to put a stop to this. Using his abilities, Sam focused on the surface of the trailer roof and started making more handholds, forcing deep grooves into the steel. It was incredibly hard to do and his head was beginning to hurt. A trickle of blood made its way out his nose, dribbling over his lips and dropping onto the trailer.

After he had made a few more of them leading up to the front of the truck, He reached out and grabbed onto the closest one and used it to pull his body forward. The truck was slammed against the side of a bank of parked cars along the side of the street, coming close to knocking him over the side of the trailer, his body swinging out at an awkward angle, one of his hands losing its grip. He was now dangling off the side of the vehicle, holding onto it with one hand. They were coming up to the next intersection and he could feel the truck slowing down a little, making him nervous.

When the truck reached the intersection it turned wide to the left and then veered drastically to the right. The truck lurched on its frame and teetered on its wheels, before tipping over. Sam knew that if he stayed where he was he would fall off and be crushed by the truck, so he braced himself against the side of the trailer and pushed off with his mind. His abilities acted exactly like a bubble and he bounced off of it, flying out through the air. The truck smashed down on its side and began sliding on the asphalt following him. He hit the ground and his mental bubble caused him to bounce off, before he lost his concentration and it dissipated. Sam, now unprotected by his shield, went flying through a store window and his frame slammed into a display case, taking it with him to the floor.

Winchester and Sam's friends saw Sam be flung over the side, where he remained dangling precariously. He was about to try to pull up to him, so they could get him to safety, when the truck turned wildly at the next intersection. Sam left their sight when the semi began its turn and the vehicle lifted up again on its right side, sending the whole thing on its left side. The truck smashed down on the street and started sliding forward, rotating slowly. Trucks and cars from all other sides started smashing into it and each other, forming another pile up. Winchester, seeing this, spun the wheel hard to the right, saying to his passengers, "hold on tight."

Sock and Ben wordlessly followed his directions and gripped their seats tightly, bracing for what was to come next. The Impala went right through the corner of the storefront and came out the other side into the next street. He slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, trying to avoid oncoming traffic. They barely managed to avoid hitting the side of a work van and got in the proper lane, where he slowed the car to a stop.

Sam groaned in pain and sat up, feeling every scrape and cut in the process. Somehow, the crossbow had stayed looped around his arm and he let it slide off, before grabbing it. Standing up, he felt the glass that was covering his body slide off and fall to the floor. He looked over to the street and saw the truck burst into flames when a truck slammed into it, almost knocking him off his feet. Looking down at himself, he saw that his entire left arm was coated in blood, the sleeve of his jacket hanging parctically by a thread. Gingerly stepping over the display stand, broken fragments of glass crunching under his shoes, he stepped out of the store and back outside. Miniscule droplets of rain could be felt on his skin and he staggered over to the carnage, vessel gripped tightly in hand.

People were screaming and crying, yelling orders at each other and running around in a frenzy. The flames were licking up the side of the charred wreckage of the truck, the heat of it felt like a furnace on his face. Movement could be detected coming from the cab of the semi and a figure leapt out of it, landing somewhere out of view on the other side. Sighing in frustration, he hobbled around the massive pile up, looking for his target. His whole body seemed to be coated in his own blood and smeared grime. Walking around the burning wreck, which had come to a stop rather close to the street corner, he spotted Edgar standing behind a car that had been pushed up the hood of another.

Another vehicle burst into flames somewhere to his right, startling him momentarily. In that second, Edgar turned his way and spotted him, smiling dangerously. Sam raised his vessel and fired off a bolt. The remaining soul ducked down, before springing back up and firing off a quick shot of his own. A narrow beam of green light streaked past him and hit the corner of the building behind, exploding impressively. Chunks of concrete rained down on his head and he was almost knocked off his feet. Edgar took the opportunity to run off, heading away from Sam's position.

Sam pursued him, his speed hampered by his many injuries, trying to keep an eye on him at all times. He tried firing another bolt, but it went wide and Edgar continued unharmed. Sirens could be heard all over the city, obviously in response to this disaster. A part of Sam felt a hopeless guilt at the knowledge that he was at least partially responsible for all this suffering. A crowd of bewildered bystanders were watching this chase with slack jaws and wide eyes.

"I'm not letting you get away this time, Edgar!" he called out, putting the last of his energy into a burst of speed. He started running, seeing that Edgar had gotten himself together physically and was no longer moving at a snail's pace. The soul ducked behind a car and he continued to run up, hoping to catch up to him before he made his move.

Edgar responded with, "I don't know about that, Sam. You see, if you capture me, my children will be forced to just kill the one you love so dearly."

Sam was forced to stop in his tracks, asking, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"The only thing is," continued the soul, ignoring Sam's question, "I can't remember if I ordered them to take your girl or that precious little boy of yours."

"You're lying," said Sam, his voice grave and serious as death. "I got all of your little followers; it's just you now."

"You sure you counted your kills right, boy? I think you're missing a couple, but you just ignore all that and come get me."

"I'll fuckin' kill you!" screamed Sam, fear and fury rising like a tide within him.

"Oh, one more thing," said the soul, his voice light and cheery. "To answer your question from earlier, I didn't run from the Devil; your master let me go willingly."

Sam was so shocked at what the soul had claimed, that he failed to do anything when he sprang up to his feet and raised his arm up and to the right across the street, his target something Sam hadn't realized had been there at all; it was the monorail track and one of the cars was coming down it right then. He had just enough time to say, "oh fuck," before Edgar let loose a large green blast that slammed straight into a support pillar.

The concrete pillar crumbled apart in the following explosion, sending the track above to swing down at an angle facing the street. A thick cloud of dust filled the air, where it mixed with the smoke from the fires. He could see the monorail car reach the end of the track, its brake screeching loudly. It sailed over the edge, slamming into the broken hunk of track leaning against the structure. The car was forced out at the angle of the track, crashing into the street and sliding along the asphalt to the mess of wrecked cars in the intersection.

Sam dove out of the way, as the massive construct scraped past him at an incredible speed, sparks flying up everywhere and stinging his face and arms. It slammed into the burning mound of twisted steel, sounding like a bomb had gone off. He covered his head with his arms and waited it out, his eardrums about to burst at the ungodly sound of it tearing through all those vehicles. It seemed to go on forever, before it finally came to a stop somewhere behind him. Sam gave himself another few seconds, before he got up to his feet with the crossbow in his hands.

It was chaos everywhere, burning hunks of steel and chunks of concrete littering the street all over. In truth, it looked like a war zone with people covered in dust and grime stumbling about in shock and terror like lost children or refugees. Edgar had disappeared, having used that last act of destruction as a cover for his escape. The sirens were loud and close, located somewhere beyond where the monorail car had ended up, this side of hell devoid of any signs of authority for the time being. He spotted his friends and that guy, Sam Winchester, heading over in his direction, looking about as shocked as he felt.

Shaking off the cloud in his mind, he staggered over to his friends and thought of what Edgar had said about his girlfriend and his baby boy. The fear of the possibility that he had been telling the truth gripped him hard and refused to let him go. He had to get back home and make sure they were okay and he had to do that now.

"Guys," he said when they got in range of each other, "We need to get back to the apartment now, it was a trap."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: It feels like something is missing from this chapter, but I don't know what it is. I've gone over it several times now and nothing's jumping out at me, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm overlooking something.

* * *

Chapter 9: Power

The entire trip back to the apartment was spent in silence, none of the occupants feeling the urge to say anything just then. Sock was a tightly coiled spring of tension and adrenaline, his frame practically vibrating with the rush of all that they had just been through. Ben was a bundle of nerves and terror, the imagery of mass destruction occupying his mind. Winchester kept his mind clear of any extraneous thoughts with the discipline that came from a life of having to do so, keeping himself focused on the road ahead. As for Sam, he thought only of Andi and Charlie, his fear for their wellbeing the most unbearable thing he had been forced to endure to date.

He stared blankly out the window, his eyes unseeing of the passing scenery as it flashed by in the night. His body ached and his cuts and scrapes burned with a sharp pain, keeping some part of him anchored in reality. The injuries would need to be tended to, he understood that, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care at the moment. All he could do was to silently will the car to go faster, but didn't voice that desire to Sam Winchester. In his arms, he cradled the vessel like a child, keeping it close by in case he needed it again.

Edgar Ross had wasted no time in making his getaway after destroying the monorail, disappearing without a trace. While bitter that the undead maniac had escaped, his primary concern was for his girlfriend and his little baby boy. He had very few light spots in his life anymore, those two topping his list with his friends coming in very closely behind. The thought of one of those light spots going dark was too much for him to bear and he thought he would just completely lose it if that happened.

After a fucking eternity, the car finally pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building and Sam Winchester parked the Impala in a guest spot. He immediately got out, hobbling for the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him. The elevators took too long and he didn't have the patience to stand idly in the cab, while who-knows-what was going on upstairs. Sam took the steps two at a time, the growing pain in his legs and body ignored with fierce determination. The others were hot on his trail, apparently agreeing with him on his choice of ascension.

The flight up the stairwell went by in a blur followed by his urgent trip through his hallway, ending with him bursting into his apartment. The place looked unharmed in any way, giving him the slightest sliver of hope in his heart. Quashing that for the sake of knowing the truth, he tore through the apartment, calling out Andi's name desperately. He found her in the hallway, lying motionless on the floor. He collapsed to his knees beside her still form and checked her breathing. She was still alive, eliciting a sigh of relief from him. The others came up to them just then and Sock kneeled down on her other side, a grim expression set on his usually jovial face.

If she was still here and alright, then that meant…Sam immediately sprang to his feet and made a quick dash into his bedroom, heading directly for Charlie's crib. His heart broke at the sight of the empty bed, Charlie's blanket tossed carelessly to the side. He dimly noticed his bedroom window was wide open and people approaching him from behind, as he felt himself spiral out of control. A low keening noise started building in his throat and he wailed out in anguish and rage, all the objects in the room rattling eerily as he unknowingly unleashed his pain through his telekinesis. The walls and floors began to shake and pictures from walls while knick knacks fell from their stations on their shelves. Sam Oliver truly lost all awareness of anything other than Charlie's absence by the time all the windows on his floor of the apartment building shattered like his spirit.

* * *

Sam Winchester, being the emotionally detached outsider and the standing veteran of human suffering in the room, took charge. He got Sock and Ben to put Andi on the couch and Ben went about reviving her. A catatonic Sam was led like a child into the living room, where he was put in a recliner near Andi. He was pretty much unresponsive and snapping him back to reality took a backseat for the moment. Making sure Andi was alright and getting her story about what happened was made their top priority and he ensured that Sock and Ben helped him get it done. Those two looked just about three steps from the deep end themselves, but they were still able to take orders and he was incredibly grateful for that.

Subtle groans of pain could be heard coming from the couch and everyone went over to see Andi coming to. She grimaced in pain and lifted a hand gingerly to her head and asked weakly, "what happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," responded Winchester.

"Where's Sam?" she asked, looking at the trio standing before her.

"He's right over there," said Ben, nodding his head in Sam's direction.

She craned her head back to see for herself and said, "baby?" When she got no response, she turned to the others with a questioning look.

"Sam's a little out of it right now," answered Sock. "how 'bout you? How do you feel?"

"Like I was knocked unconscious," she replied. Andi moved to sit up and found herself being helped up by three sets of hands. When she was properly sitting up with her back to the backrest, Andi finally noticed Sam Winchester's presence and asked him, "who are you?"

"Name's Sam," he replied, offering her a genuine smile in greeting. The confused look on her face reminded him that he was currently sharing that name with someone these people knew very well. "Sorry, Sam Winchester." Revealing his last name got him some curious looks from both Sock and Ben. "It's sort of a long story, but I kinda know your boyfriend."

"Oh," was her only response to that.

Ben took the opportunity to ask Andi the big question. "Can you remember what happened?"

Andi looked down in thought, her mind obviously working to remember the events that led up to her being left unconscious in the middle of the hallway. "It's hard to recall, but I was just coming back from checking on Charlie and then nothing." She looked back up at them and said, "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

"That's okay," said Sock, "we're just glad you're alright."

Andi suddenly looked shocked and moved to stand up, but was gently pushed back down by both Ben and Sock, the former of which saying, "easy there, you're hurt and you need to rest."

"But Charlie!" she exclaimed. "Where is he!?"

The three of them looked down, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. The alarm on her face was apparent, causing Ben to say, "he was taken."

"No," she said, her voice thick and strangled. Looking back over at Sam, she saw that he was still sitting there looking down at the floor. He continued to show no signs of being aware of anything, his eyes on the carpet and sightless in how empty they were. She attempted standing again, this time moving more carefully and getting assistance from both Ben and Sock. Andi walked over to Sam and kneeled down in front of him, reaching out to his bloody dirt-smeared face. A good up close frontal view of him revealed how bad he looked. Her boyfriend was absolutely covered in blood, his clothing little more than tattered rags. His face was a mess of cuts and scrapes and he had what must've been a nasty gash running down his left arm. There was no telling how bad off his legs were or if he had fractured or broke anything. Her hand touched his cheek and she felt how cold his skin was, almost like ice. Gently, she pushed his face up so she was staring him in the eyes. They were blank and empty, his mind lost deep somewhere within. "Sam? Please talk to me, honey. I know you're hurt and scared, we all are, but you need to come back to us. We need you, Charlie needs you." Tears were flowing down her face, as she looked at sweet gentle Sam Oliver, whom she had known for so many years, just so lost in pain that he was catatonic. She lowered her voice to a whisper and said, "Please, I'm so sorry."

His eyes seemed to clear a little and they focused on her. "Not your fault," he said, his voice low and raspy.

"We'll get him back," she promised, so thankful to see him back in reality.

"Sam," said Ben, "I know this is hard, but I need to have a look at your injuries, okay?"

Sam took a second, before visibly collecting himself and looking at Ben. He nodded and said, "yeah, okay." Ben turned on a nearby lamp and grabbed the big first aid kit he kept in his room. Opening it up, he put on some gloves and started examining Sam's various wounds. He had Sam remove his shirt and he began cleaning his wounds, while Winchester saw to Andi's head wound. Sock, unfortunately, was left to fend for himself, which was just as well due to the fact that he had sustained very few injuries and possibly didn't even need any real treatment anyway.

The five of them stayed silent as they did this, nobody seeming to have anything to say. Ben worked quickly and gently, his hands cleaning and bandaging his wounds with a skill that spoke of a lot of experience. When he had finished, Ben put everything back in his kit and shut it, standing up to put it away. Sam's legs were bruised and scraped, a nasty gash making hamburger out of his right kneecap. He slowly got up and limped into his room and went straight to his dresser, grabbing a t-shirt from the top drawer. Slipping it on, he reached down and grabbed the crossbow from the floor where he had dropped it, his eyes briefly landing on the crib. With the crossbow in hand, he left the bedroom and rejoined the others.

Sam snatched Edgar's file from the coffee table and headed for the door, making a detour over to Andi. "I gotta go get him back," he said and then leaned over and gave her a kiss. "I love you."

"But we don't know where they took him," said Sock.

Looking down at the folder in his hand, he said, "I know where he is." Sam then looked at Winchester and told him, "thank you for all your help, Sam, I will have that talk with you, but I've got something I've gotta do right now."

"I understand," said Sam Winchester, staring him squarely in the eyes.

Ben said, "we're coming too."

"No," replied Sam, "this time, I'm going alone." With that, Sam left the apartment and made for his car. People were wandering the halls in a daze, dumbstruck at the small earthquake that took place on their floor of the apartment building. Nobody noticed him walk by with the crossbow resting against his shoulder. Sam got in the elevator and rode it down to the parking level, his face set in stone.

* * *

The drive to the old church, the one that Edgar and his followers hanged themselves in, went by in a blur. He drove nonstop all the way into the Olympic Peninsula, deep into its primordial woods, his destination somewhere not too far from Aberdeen. The file the Devil had given him had included a detailed map with the directions to the old church. It was an easy task to follow those directions, something he seared into his mind.

Several hours later, as the Sun was rising, he finally pulled into the clearing that the church was built in, putting that long and winding dirt road behind him. The church itself didn't appear to be that large from the outside, looking little bigger than a double-wide motor home. It was tall, though, it's steeple rising high into the air with a wrought-iron cross jutting out the top. Paint, which had at one point been white and pristine, was now a mottled grey and peeling in great big flakes off the rotting wood walls

Ignoring all this, Sam marched up to the front doors with the vessel firmly in hand. He came up to the doors, which looked to be rotting off their hinges and collected his mental energy together, using it like a battering ram. The doors flew easily off their rusty old hinges and slammed to the floor, kicking up great clouds of dust. It was dark and musty inside, the scent recalled instantly his memory of first being given the details of the assignment by his infernal boss. This time, there were no faint strains of organ music playing somewhere in the distance.

Across the room, on the other side of the altar, Edgar Ross and his two remaining followers were standing side by side. Before them, housed cruelly in an old metal cage –the kind that rabbits or guinea pigs would be kept as pets in- was his little boy. Charlie was crying unmercifully and looked cold. Stamping down his fear and concern for the time being, Sam immediately shot at Edgar, one of his followers stepping into the line of fire and taking the bolt in the chest. It was sucked into the vessel, as the other soul charged and fired off a shot of its own. Instead of trying to dodge the attack, Sam simply held his hand out and the green beam of light stopped within inches of his outstretched hand. Closing his hand into a fist, the green light dissipated into nothing. Edgar looked shocked at what he had just witnessed and let out a green blast himself, his being much larger and more powerful than his disciple's. This one was stopped as well, this time without Sam even lifting a hand.

Firing again, he tagged the other soul, sending it to join the others, before he set his sights on Edgar. The final soul, the mastermind behind them all, stood there frozen in place. His fear was palpable and the sense of impending defeat was visible on his features. He, after a long period of inaction, finally spoke. He said, "You have grown so powerful, Sam Oliver, I will give you that. I was right about you all along; you're like me, a god. Think about what you could do with your powers, those that you could help. We could help them together."

"Like you helped all those innocent people in Seattle last night?"

"That was unfortunate," replied the soul, trying to sound apologetic.

"Unfortunate isn't strong enough of a word for that, Edgar. People were injured and killed there, all because of you."

"Oh, like you're so blameless. They were hurt because of your reckless pursuit of me. They would have been in no danger if you had just backed off."

Sam had to force himself to calm back down after hearing that, keeping his voice as even as possible in his response. "No, I chased you because you were a danger to people. You were taking the homeless from the streets and sacrificing them in some made-up ritual. You're sick and you're beyond redemption; you're going back. I don't care if the Devil let you out, I don't care at all."

"Well," said Edgar, "that sounds pretty final then." He tensed slightly.

Sam could feel something coming in his direction from behind and extended his mind to stop it in mid-air. Looking back, he saw that it was one of the church pews. It dawned on him then that looking back had been a strategic error on his part and immediately turned back to Edgar. The soul was sending another pew at him and he only had the time to deflect it. The wood bench was sent up into the rafters, smacking into them, before coming back down to the floor where it shattered into splinters. The whole frame of the building shook violently from that and plaster and dust started to rain down on them. Charlie started crying louder than ever and Sam had to stop himself from running over there to comfort him.

Edgar started launching more church pews at him, trying to score a lucky hit. Sam deflected them as they came at him, using the pew he had stopped earlier as projectile of his own. Edgar managed to deflect that one, sending it crashing into the wall. The damage was rapidly taking its toll on the building and the frame was about to collapse. He used his mind to keep it propped up and sent a church pew that had been flying right at him back to its sender, sending him to the floor.

Sam walked up to Edgar and put his foot on the soul's chest. He aimed the crossbow directly at Edgar's face and he looked back up at Sam in wonderment.

"But I'm a god," was all the soul could say in that moment.

"No, you're not," replied Sam, pulling the trigger and capturing the last of the souls. The vessel began to get hot and glowed with an eerie red light. Before his eyes, it started to shrink in size, until it turned into nothing more than a key chain made to look like the crossbow. Sam pocketed it, before setting his sights on Charlie. The baby was no longer crying and was looking at Sam. He walked up to the baby's cage and opened it up. Scooping up the child, he held him close and made soft shushing noises. "It's okay, daddy's gotcha." The second he called himself daddy, Sam knew it to be the truth. It didn't matter how they were related biologically, Charlie was his son and Sam was his father.

He walked out of the church with Charlie safely in his arms, heading straight back to his car. When they had gotten a safe distance away, he released his mental grip on the building and it collapsed without preamble. Sam went about securing Charlie in his seat, quickly inspecting the baby for any harm. Satisfied that his boy was okay, he planted a gentle kiss on his brow and grabbed the pack of smokes he kept in his glove box. Taking one out, he lit it and sat on the ground with his back to the car. He let out the smoke and buried his head in his hands, tears now flowing out of him uncontrollably. Now that it was all over, he cried out all his anguish and his pain, letting go of that terrible burden. Everything caught up with him then and he slid helplessly to the ground where he curled up into the fetal position, unable and unwilling to stop his tears. Sam stayed there on the grass, sobbing and crying for a long time, letting it all out to finally see the light of day.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: So much to say. First off, I would like to thank anyone who actually stuck with it this far to the end. This last chapter was very tricky to get out, considering that I had to rewrite the whole thing at least three times. I've also reduced this fic's rating, considering that it turned out to have pretty much none of the disturbing content that the first story had in it. Please R&R (and of course flames are more than welcome).

* * *

Chapter 10: Salvation

It had taken Sam a long time to purge himself of the pain from it all, but his sobs eventually grew weaker and his tears began to dry. He laid there a while longer, working up the drive to stand up and go. Charlie needed him, though, and that was all the encouragement he needed to push himself to his feet and get in the car. The boy in question had fallen asleep, his tiny face relaxed in the pure restful sleep of childhood. A smile flashed across Sam's face at the sight and he started the car and pulled out of the clearing and back down the old dirt road he had come in on.

His breakdown had done him a world of good, his mind a little more clear in the aftermath of it. There were so many things on his mind now, like his powers and the soul's claim that the Devil had let him out. It didn't really surprise him that his boss would be a dick like that, but he wondered what his reasoning was behind it. If Edgar was telling the truth, then it meant that the Devil let him out to pit him against Sam. The thought of it stirred the anger within him, uncoiling it like a waking viper. He quashed that line of thinking, not wanting to let himself get that worked up over it. As for his powers, Sam could only feel fear. In the church and before that, he just threw his abilities around without thought or concern. But now, he couldn't help but wonder if they signified something dark and awful. The question popped in his head; what if he took this great power and abused it? The thought of succumbing to that corruption frightened him deeply, reminding him of all the different times the Devil had tried to lead him astray. Tony had basically told him that it was okay to use these abilities, that it was going to be necessary for him to use them in the future. In fact, those powers proved vital to his and his friends' survival just last night. Today, though, he had thrown it around like a toy and almost reveled in the fear he had caused in Edgar.

Sam drove straight back home, physically exhausted but unable to rest. He needed to get Charlie home as soon as he could, his wellbeing superseding all else. After Charlie was situated, he could safely pass out. Until then, he would keep his eyes glued to the road and his hands glued to the wheel, forcing his mind to focus on the yellow and white lines ahead of him. Charlie slept the entire way; his ordeal must've exhausted him, as well. Sam knew that it was going to make the baby a nightmare to deal with later, but couldn't find it in him to keep him awake just then.

It was somewhere around mid-afternoon when Sam pulled into his parking garage. He parked his car and grabbed a sleeping Charlie from his seat. Taking the little boy with him, Sam trudged up to his apartment and entered. Everyone –minus Sam Winchester- was inside, sitting on the couch. They were about to rush him and pepper him with questions, but he held his finger up to his lips and pointed at Charlie. The four of them got the hint and kept their questions to themselves, their curiosity almost overwhelming. He quietly took Charlie to his room and dressed him in his little pajamas and put him to bed. When he was certain that Charlie was okay, Sam left the room and rejoined his friends.

"It's been taken care of," he said in answer to their unasked question.

"You're both alright?" asked Andi, the concern in her voice touching him deep inside.

Smiling genuinely, he nodded his head and said," yes, we're both alright."

"Oh, thank God." She rushed him and enveloped him in a crushing hug. "I was so worried about you; you were gone so long and I didn't know if something had happened to you and I was just so scared."

"Andi, I'm fine, just a little tired is all." He looked around and asked, "did Sam Winchester leave?"

"Yeah, he left this morning, saying he would be in the area for a couple more days," replied Sock.

"Good, I have a lot of things I want to talk to him about," said Sam. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key chain vessel. "Would one of you guys get this to Gladys?"

"That the vessel?" asked Sock.

"Yeah."

"No can do," said Ben.

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"All of Downtown Seattle's been shut down in light of what happened last night. There is no getting to the DMV, not any time soon."

"Oh," replied Sam, unsure of his feelings on that. "Well, we'll deal with it later then." Putting the vessel back in his pocket, he turned back to Andi, who was looking at him critically.

"You're exhausted," she claimed. "Come on, let's get you to bed after you take a shower."

"Okay," he said, letting her lead him by the hand to his bedroom.

"Sam," she said, her voice dropped to a whisper. "You look like you're running on empty, something that's been a recurring theme with you lately."

Looking down at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with her, he said, "I know. I've just been so tired, but every time I close my eyes…" Sam choked off here, not up to going down that dark road, especially with all that he had on his mind currently.

"Oh honey," she said, reaching out to touch his face. He flinched initially, his mind in the past. She tried again and stroked his cheek lovingly, tilting his head back up to look at her. "I don't know what happened to you over there, when you went out East, but I know it's done nothing but weigh you down."

"It was a bad place; the things I saw there." He focused his gaze on her and said, "I can't talk about it, it hurts too much. I'm just so tired." And he was, his exhaustion went beyond the physical and the mental. He was emotionally drained and his spirit felt stretched thin, about to snap from the tension of it all.

"Here," she said, grabbing the hem of his shirt. "Let's get you undressed." She pulled his shirt up and he lifted his arms to allow her to remove it. Andi assisted him in removing his clothing and led him to the bathroom, where she had him sit down on the toilet as she started the water. The two of them went about this silently, just happy to be in each other's presence. Inside the shower, he hissed in pain at the stinging burn of his wounds being exposed to the hot water, but couldn't help but feel himself start to relax under the soothing heat of the water. Afterwards, she helped him towel off and redressed his bandages.

Andi led him over to his bed, where she had him lay down. He closed his eyes and felt her place a kiss on his temple, before pulling the covers over the two of them and holding him close. He fell into a deep dreamless sleep, feeling the comforting warmth of his girlfriend by his side.

* * *

Sam woke up to the beautiful sight of Andi's face. Her eyes were open and she was gazing fondly at him. "Morning," she said.

"Mornin'. How long have you been watchin' me?" he asked.

"Since I woke up about an hour ago," she replied.

Sam looked up at his alarm clock, seeing that it was just after ten. He looked over to Charlie's crib and asked, "has he been sleeping this whole time?"

"No, he woke up a few hours after you put him to bed yesterday and Sock and Ben took care of him for awhile. They got him back to bed by nine last night and grabbed him when I woke up an hour ago. They said they'd get his breakfast, because we didn't wanna wake you."

"Oh," he said, grateful that they would do that for him.

"Let's just lie here together for awhile," she said.

"Okay," he said, as she reached over and kissed him. Sam and Andi laid there in his bed, making love in the lazy haze of a morning that hadn't truly started yet. Afterward, they stayed in bed holding each other in post-coital satiation. At one point, he was looking outside, when he noticed something a little odd. "What happened to the window?" he asked.

"According to Sock and Ben, you happened to the window."

"Me?" he asked.

"Yeah, I don't know. You'll have to ask them."

"Whatever," he said, "I just wanna stay here with you right now." Sam threw himself over her and they started making out once more. The two of them had sex again, before getting up for the day. They got dressed in a comfortable silence, Sam transferring the contents of his old pants into his clean ones, and left the bedroom. Sock was playing with Charlie in the living room, while Ben was speaking to someone on the phone in rapidly spoken Spanish.

Sam and Andi got something for breakfast and sat down at the table, watching Sock and Charlie. The two of them were playing a game of peek-a-boo, which was eliciting great peals of laughter from the baby. It was good to see that the little boy was recovering from his experience so quickly, something he feared would be an issue. Sam only wished that he had that sort of resiliency; his mind would be the better off for it. He finished his cereal and set the bowl in the sink, walking off to the bathroom.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Flipping on the light switch, he cursed when the bulb burned out and the room stayed dark. Sam opened the door to try his personal bathroom and found that it led somewhere else instead. In place of his apartment hallway, he found himself entering a wide open field. It was the exact same field that the Devil whisked him away to when he was getting Sam's answer to his proposal to start paying him. Stepping out of the bathroom, the ground cold and wet under his bare feet, he briefly looked back to see there were no signs of a room being there at all, only more field with a forest set against a river on the far side. It was really a beautiful place, he was forced to admit. It was too bad that it was associated with the source of all evil.

"I must extend my deepest congratulations to you, Sammy," said the Devil from somewhere behind him. "You did it and you did it very well."

"It was a cluster fuck," countered Sam, "but you knew that from the get-go. Here's the vessel by the way," he said, extracting the key-chain from his pocket.

"What do you want me to do with that?" asked the Devil, sounding genuinely confused.

"Take it back to Hell with you," replied Sam, his voice thick with disdain for the vile creature standing before him. "Look, the DMV's shut down along with the rest of Seattle for the foreseeable future and I'm done carrying it around with me; you take it."

The Devil took the vessel without a word, slipping it into his jacket pocket before settling his discomforting gaze back on his bounty hunter. Sam, to his credit, just stared back at him.

"Oh, said Satan, "but getting back to the initial topic, You were completely awesome out there the other night. I mean, you caused, what? somewhere upwards of 3.6 billion dollars in damages to the city of Seattle with a grand total of twenty-three civilians dead and forty-two more injured."

"W,what?" asked Sam, suddenly feeling very sick.

Sensing his distress, the Devil responded with, "don't worry, I got rid of all evidence that you or any of your friends had anything to do with it, even that demon hunter buddy of yours."

"Twenty-three people died?" asked Sam, ignoring what his boss said. "Oh God, that's awful."

"Oh, calm down, hero, there was nothing you could've done to save them. Edgar Ross threw his power around like it was going out of style and innocent people fell victim to that irresponsibility. But enough about Edgar, let's talk about you. You've risen to a new level, Sammy, and I only feel the utmost respect for you."

"What are you talkin' about?" asked Sam, confused about why the Devil was saying these things.

" I'll be brief, seeing as how little time I have at the moment. You're powers have been exercised like a muscle and now you have them at your command. You've faced some of the worst things that this wretched world has to offer and you've come out on top, in spite of it. I can see it in your eyes; there's a confidence that's never been there before." The Devil pulled out a pack of smokes and took one out for himself, holding out the pack in an offering to Sam. He took one, letting Satan light it for him.

"You let Edgar out of Hell, didn't you?" asked Sam, his features perfectly schooled to reveal nothing of what he thought of that.

"I did," admitted The Devil, smoke drifting from his mouth and forming swirling patterns of grayish-white in the air.

"Why?"

"To test you, of course." Satan paused to take another drag. "I needed to make sure you were truly ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Sam, feeling something beyond curiosity for what was about to be said.

"For what's to come," Said Satan, before turning away and looking out over the expanse of land. While some part of Sam wanted to ask him what he meant by that, he was mostly just thankful that the Devil had seen fit to stop talking. The two of them finished their smokes in silence, before Sam was sent back to his bathroom.

* * *

A couple hours after the Devil dropped him back off at home, he was visited by a nervous-looking Sam Winchester. He invited him in and they sat down in the living room, Sam stopping by the kitchen to pour a couple mugs of coffee for the two of them. When they were both situated, Winchester asked, "you appear calm and happy enough, so am I to assume it all worked fine?"

"Well, I dont know if 'fine' is the word I would use, but yeah, I got him back safe and sound." Sam took a sip of his coffee.

"That's great, but what about that old dude I'm assuming was an escaped soul?"

"Back in Hell, right where he belongs."

Winchester appeared bothered at the mention of Edgar being in Hell, but his reason remained unclear and he schooled his features quickly to hide his feelings on the matter. "Good, I guess. But that wasn't my entire reason for coming by, of course. I looked into what we talked about the other day at the diner and I gathered some information, but I gotta tell you that what I uncovered bothers me a little."

Sam sighed in dawning comprehension and said, "alright then, lay it on me."

"Your boss," said Winchester, "the demon that has your soul, he's more than what you hinted at."

"Yes," he admitted, "I'm sorry for not telling you the whole story, but it's not an easy thing to fess up to."

"I get that and I'm not upset that you kept it to yourself. Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I would very well do the same thing. Listen, about this whole bounty hunter for Hell thing, I dug up some info on it and, while there was a whole slew of contradictory facts, there was one universal theme that stood out. Over the centuries, there have been hundreds and hundreds of bounty hunters such as yourself and they all were reported to have only one boss."

Sam took a sip of coffee, hoping that it might miraculously calm him down, as he waited for the bomb to drop.

Winchester leaned forward, dropping his voice a few decibels. "When I first found this information, I didn't believe it, not a word of it. But, there were so many sources that confirmed this, that I was forced to change my mind on the matter. Your kind of bounty hunters, sometimes inaccurately called reapers, all have been reported to work for the Devil. Most have only dealt with lower-level underlings, but their real boss has always been Lucifer. Your parents sold your soul to Satan, didn't they?"

He couldn't bring himself to look Sam Winchester in the face, opting to nod his head in confirmation as he stared at the coffee in his hands. "Yeah," he said at last, "they did."

"Something you should know," continued Winchester, "is that there has never been a case that I found where the person forced to do his bidding has ever been able to get out of it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, "I figured as much, to be honest with you."

A heavy silence fell between, the weight of their conversation hanging low in the air. Both Sams drank their coffee, each feeling extremely awkward for their own reasons. It was eventually Sam Oliver that broke the silence by asking about his brother, Dean. It was apparently not the subject to bring up, as Winchester visibly tensed up at the mention of his brother's name.

"He's gone," said Winchester, his voice indicating quite clearly that he wasn't going to elaborate any more than that.

"I,I'm sorry," responded Sam, stuttering a little on his own words. "I just assumed that since you were alive and the police report..." He trailed off trying to put his words together effectively and just decided to give up.

Winchester looked like he had something else he wanted to say, but seemed uncertain as to how to say it. After a minute of building up the courage, he finally said, "there's more that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" asked Sam, encouraging him to spit it out.

"When we got back here the other night, when you discovered your son was missing, something happened. You displayed some unusual abilities and shattered all the windows in your apartment."

"Oh," he said in response, feeling particularly dumb for not being able to say anything more to that.

"It's just that I know that it must make you feel like some sort of freak, but I just wanted you to know that it doesn't make you a monster, or anything like that," finished Winchester lamely.

Another awkward silence followed his words, before the two of them managed to find somewhat more neutral topics to discuss and Sam Winchester left with a promise to keep in touch from time to time, especially if he found anything of his father's that pertained to Sam.

* * *

It was approaching early evening and Sam was sitting in the living room, Charlie playing happily on the floor in front of him. He was keeping his attention focused on the baby and reading the newspaper. It was pretty much filled entirely with stuff about what had happened in downtown Seattle the other night. All he could feel about the events of that night was a deep crushing guilt. Sure, it was Edgar who was ultimately responsible for those deaths, but Sam most definitely had his share of culpability when it came to that. He hadn't even been thinking of the innocent bystanders at the time. Maybe if he had given it some thought, he could have done something different that would have reduced the number of lives lost that night. Shaking his mind clear of that self-doubt, he folded up the newspaper and set it aside.

He spotted Charlie staring at a spider crawling innocently across the carpet, absolutely fascinated by the tiny creature and its journey through the living room. The baby reached out with his pudgy little arms, his fragile tiny hands stretched out to touch it. Sam was about to get up and gently stop Charlie from eating the bug or doing whatever he was going to do with it, when a foot came down, stomping the spider to death. Poor Charlie started crying in response, both scared of the sudden action and the loss of his object of interest.

"Sock," exclaimed Sam, "that was uncalled for; you made him cry."

"Oh sorry," Said Sock, disinterestedly. He scraped the spider's remains off the sole of his shoe, leaving its mangled body on the carpet.

After Sock walked off, Sam got up and retrieved a paper towel from the kitchen, taking it back with him to pick up the dead bug. Charlie was reaching out to touch it, forcing Sam to say, "Oh no, don't touch that, little buddy, it's icky." Sam rushed over to stop him from doing that, when the most amazing thing happened. Charlie's fingers brushed the crushed husk of the spider and a bright blue spark jumped from the tips and into the lifeless body. What happened next, floored Sam completely. The spider's body came back in on itself, reforming back into its original self. It started crawling away again, going about its journey to the far wall, while Charlie clapped his hands and giggled in glee.

_-fin_

_

* * *

_A/N2: Anyone who actually stuck with this story from the first one, might be a little peeved at me for not resolving some of the things that were left unresolved then (i.e. the video tape and the medallion). I honestly tried to integrate them in, but they didn't fit in this story. I will resolve them in the last story, I swear. And I also swear that I am not one of the writers for Lost. Thank you all.


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